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the valleys, hoping to thaw their joints with the waters of the stream; but there the frost overtook them, and bound them fast in ice, till the young herdsmen took them in their stronger snare. It is the unhappy chance of many men, finding many inconveniences upon the mountains of single life, they descend into the valleys of marriage to refresh their troubles, and there they enter into fetters, and are bound to sorrow, by the cords of a man's or woman's peevishness. Every little thing can blast an infant blossom; and the breath of the south can shake the little rings of the vine, when first they begin to curl like the locks of a new-weaned boy; but when by age and consolidation they stiffen into the hardness of a stem, and have, by the warm embraces of the sun, and the kisses of heaven, brought forth their clusters, they can endure the storms of the north, and the loud noises of a tempest, and yet never be broken: so are the early unions of an unfixed marriage; watchful and observant, jealous and busy, inquisitive and careful, and apt to take alarm at every unkind word. For infirmities do not manifest themselves in the first scenes, but in the succession of a long society; and it is not chance or weakness, when it appears at first, but it is want of love or prudence, or it will be so expounded; and that which appears ill at first, usually affrights the unexperienced man or woman, who makes unequal conjectures, and fancies mighty sorrows by the proportions of the new and early unkindness. It is a very great passion, or a huge folly, or a certain want of love, that cannot preserve the colours and beauties of kindness, so long as public honesty requires a man to wear their sorrows for the death of a friend. The little boy, in the Greek epigram, that was creeping down a precipice, was invited to his safety by the sight of his mother's pap, when nothing else could entice him to return; and the bond of common children, and the sight of her that nurses is most dear to him, and the endearments of each other in the course of a long society, and the same relation is an excellent security to redintegrate and to call that love back, which folly and trifling accidents would disturb. When it comes thus far, it is hard untwisting the knot. Here is nothing can please a man without love; and if a man be weary of the wise discourses of the apostles, and of the innocency of an even and private fortune, or hates peace, or a fruitful year, he hath reaped thorns and thistles from the choicest flowers of paradise; for nothing can sweeten felicity itself, but love. But when a man dwells in love, then the eyes of his wife are fair as the light of heaven, and he can lay his sorrows down upon her lap, and can retire home as to his sanctuary and refectory, and his gardens of sweetness and chaste refreshments. No man can tell, but he that loves his children, how many delicious accents make a man's heart dance in the pretty conversation of those dear pledges, their childishness, their stammering, their little angers, their innocence, their imperfections, their necessities, are so many little emanations of joy and comfort to him that delights in their persons and society; but he that loves not his wife and children, feeds a lioness at home, and broods a pest of sorrows, and blessing itself cannot make him happy; so that all the commandments enjoining a man to love his wife, are nothing but so many necessities and capacities of joy. She that is loved is safe, and he that loves is joyful."

Dr. Watts thought justly, when he wrote the following admirable poem. The Doctor was a bachelor; but he had evidently the finest conception of what should constitute the genuine happiness of the married life:

Say, mighty love, and teach my song,
To whom thy sweetest joys belong,

And who the happy pairs
Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands,
Find blessings twisted with their bands,

To soften all their cares.
Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains
That thoughtless fly into the chains,

As custom leads the way:
If there be bliss without design,
Ivies and oaks may grow and twine,

And be as blest as they.
Not sordid souls of earthly mould,
Who, drawn by kindred charms of gold,

To dull embraces move :
So two rich mountains of Peru
May rush to wealthy marriage too,

And make a world of love.
Not the mad tribe that hell inspires
With wanton flames, those raging fires

The purer bliss destroy:
On Ætna's top let furies wed,
And sheets of lightning dress the bed,

To improve the burning joy.
Not the dull pairs, whose marble forms
None of the melting passion warms,

Can mingle hearts and hands :
Logs of green wood, that quench the coals,
Are married just like stoic souls,

With osiers for their bands.
Not minds of melancholy strain,
Still silent, or that still complain,

Can the dear bondage bless :
As well may heav'nly concerts spring
From two old lutes with ne'er a string,

Or none beside the bass.
Nor can the soft enchantments hold
Two jarring souls of angry mould,

The rugged and the keen:
Samson's young foxes might as well
In bands of cheerful wedlock dwell,

With firebrands tied between.
Nor let the cruel fetters bind
A gentle to a savage mind,

For love abhors the sight:
Loose the fierce tyger from the deer,
For native rage and native fear

Rise and forbid delight.
Two kindest souls alone must meet,
'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet,

And feeds their mutual loves :
Bright Venus on her rolling throne
Is drawn by gentlest birds alone,

And cupids yoke the doves. A good wife will co-operate with her husband in a regular attention to all the varieties of family expenditure. She will consider neatness, which is one of the lesser virtues too lightly noticed by the moralist, as an object of no trivial concern. And her servants, viewing in her the model of neatness, will copy it in their own persons, and display it in every thing which claims their care.

She will on no account relax her regard to settled hours, both as to family repasts and family devotions, but enforce regularity by her own uniform practice, distinguishing herself by the earliness of her application to each domestic office; for much depends on this. To rise early, has even a moral tendency. That it contributes both to affluence and to health, is so obvious, as to have become proverbial; and that it renders the mind vigorous and cheerful, will strikingly appear, on contrasting the heaviness of the slothful and enervated, with the vivacity of the vigilant and industrious. If the first part of the day be wasted in sleep, what remains will hardly be recovered from dissipation and disorder.

A sensible and discreet woman will see the distinction between sullen seclusion and a becoming retirement; and, whilst she remits not her attention to family duties, nor suffers an hour to be lost which should be devoted to her husband's interest, she will yet remember her most distant connections, and readily give them all the leisure she can command. For her own sake, indeed, she will cherish an intercourse with her friends, who will soothe her solicitudes, and by diverting her thoughts, induce an agreeable relaxation. Nothing also contributes more to the expansion of the mind, and to the pliability of the manners, than to converse with various people, and to observe their different characters. A well-selected acquaintance is therefore desirable, provided the leisure and income of the parties justify the indulgence: but at all events, there will seldom be wanting an ability to attend to and fulfil the calls of private friendship.

The following piece represents the tender husband as sensible of the vicissitudes and transitoriness of life, and calling upon his partner to participate in the pleasures of love, before it be too late :

Let us, my Delia, while we live,
Crown'd with each bliss that Love can give,
The rumours of the grave despise,
For life, alas! too swiftly flies;
And all its cares can only tend
To make us sooner reach its end

Then let us seize the present hour,
While beauty reigns in all its power ;
And I, still warm in ardent youth,
Breathe in this kiss my plighted truth,
Let us the precious time improve,
In all the various sweets of love.

Then as my arms I fondly twine
Around that heavenly neck of thine,
I'll clasp thee to my faithful breast,
With Hymen's chaste endearments blest,
Bid every other wish adieu,

And only live for love and you. In Rogers's Pleasures of Memory we have the following beautiful lines, addressed to a friend on his marriage:

On thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers

The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew :
Each soft enchantment of the soul is her's;

Thine be the joys to firm attachment due.
As on she moves with hesitating grace,

She wins assurance from his soothing voice ;
And, with a look the pencil could not trace,

Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice.
Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame !

To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears !
To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim,

Weakness that charms, teluctance that endears!
At each response the sacred rite requires,

From her full bosom bursts th' unbidden sigh;
A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires,

And on her lips the trembling accents die.
O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!

What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!
Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,

And settled sunshine on her soul descend!
Ah! soon, thine own confess'd, ecstatic thought,

That hand shall strew thy summer path with flow'rs;
And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught,

Gild the calm current of domestic hours ! The constancy of true love is thus beautifully expressed by Moore :

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow, and fee from my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away--
Thou would'st still be ador'd as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

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