Date: 1784

"No, Edwitha--you have a native dignity of mind incapable of degradation or alloy."

— Holcroft, Thomas (1745-1809)

Date: 1784

The partial Muse, has from my earliest hours / Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread, / And still with sportive hand has snatch'd wild flowers, / To weave fantastic garlands for my head: / But far, far happier is the lot of those / Who never learn'd her dear delusive art; / Which, while i...

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

Ah! poor humanity! so frail, so fair, / Are the fond visions of thy early day, / Till tyrant passion, and corrosive care, / Bid all thy fairy colours fade away!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"Ah! season of delight!--could aught be found / To soothe awhile the tortur'd bosom's pain, / Of Sorrow's rankling shaft to cure the wound, / And bring life's first delusions once again, / 'Twere surely met in thee!."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"Whate'er my destiny may be, / That faithful heart, still burns for thee!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

Go, cruel tyrant of the human breast! / To other hearts, thy burning arrows bear; / Go, where fond hope, and fair illusion rest!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"I hurry forward, passion's helplesss slave! And scorning reason's mild and sober light, / Pursue the path that leads me to the grave!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"Not death itself thine empire can destroy; / Towards thee, even then, we turn the languid eye; / Still trust in thee to bid our memory bloom, / And scatter roses round the silent tomb."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"Blest is yon shepherd, on the turf reclin'd, / Who on the varied clouds which float above / Lies idly gazing--while his vacant mind / Pours out some tale antique of rural love!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1784

"Nor his rude bosom those fine feelings melt, / Children of Sentiment and Knowledge born, / Thro' whom each shaft with cruel force is felt, / Empoison'd by deceit or barb'd with scorn."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)