27.08.2014, 12:46
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LADY MARIANNE CARNEGIE,
passing her winters at Ethic House on the Coast of Scotland, with her Father, Lord Northesk, who retired thither after the death of his excellent Countess.
WRITTEN FEBRUARY 1787.
Lady, each soft effusion of thy mind,
Flowing thro' thy free pen, shows thee endu'd
With taste so just for all of wise, and good,
As bids me hope thy spirit does not find,
Young as thou art, with solitude combin'd
That wish of change, that irksome lassitude,
Which often, thro' unvaried days, obtrude
On Youth's rash bosom, dangerously inclin'd
To pant for more than peace.--Rich volumes yield
Their soul-endowing wealth.--Beyond e'en these
Shall consciousness of filial duty gild
The gloomy hours, when Winter's turbid Seas
Roar round the rocks; when the dark Tempest lours,
And mourn the Winds round Ethic's lonely towers.
LADY MARIANNE CARNEGIE,
passing her winters at Ethic House on the Coast of Scotland, with her Father, Lord Northesk, who retired thither after the death of his excellent Countess.
WRITTEN FEBRUARY 1787.
Lady, each soft effusion of thy mind,
Flowing thro' thy free pen, shows thee endu'd
With taste so just for all of wise, and good,
As bids me hope thy spirit does not find,
Young as thou art, with solitude combin'd
That wish of change, that irksome lassitude,
Which often, thro' unvaried days, obtrude
On Youth's rash bosom, dangerously inclin'd
To pant for more than peace.--Rich volumes yield
Their soul-endowing wealth.--Beyond e'en these
Shall consciousness of filial duty gild
The gloomy hours, when Winter's turbid Seas
Roar round the rocks; when the dark Tempest lours,
And mourn the Winds round Ethic's lonely towers.