Page:Summer on the lakes, in 1843.djvu/112

 I will not hear the treacherous call

That bids me stay and rest awhile,

 For I have found that, one and all,

They seek me for a prey and spoil.

 They are not bad, I know it well;

I know they know not what they do;

 They are the tools of the dread spell

Which the lost lover must pursue.

 In temples sometimes she may rest,

In lonely groves, away from men,

 There bend the head, by heats distrest,

Nor be by blows awoke again.

 Nature is kind, and God is kind,

And, if she had not had a heart,

 Only that great discerning mind,

She might have acted well her part.

 But oh this thirst, that none can still,

Save those unfounden waters free;

 The angel of my life should fill

And soothe me to Eternity!

It marks the defect in the position of woman that one like Mariana should have found reason to write thus. To a man of equal power, equal sincerity, no more! — many resources would have presented themselves. He would not have needed to seek, he would have been called by life, and not permitted to be quite wrecked through the affections only. But such women as Mariana are often lost, unless they meet some man of sufficiently great soul to prize them.