Her book her dayly comfort was, And that she often did peruse; She seldom looked in her glass; 75 Powder and paint she ne'er would use. I wish all ladies were as free From pride, as was Penelope.
She in her needle took delight, And likewise in her spinning-wheel; 80 Her maids about her every night Did use the distaff, and the reel: The spiders, that on rafters twine, Scarce spin a thread more soft and fine.
Sometimes she would bewail the loss 85 And absence of her dearest love: Sometimes she thought the seas to cross, Her fortune on the waves to prove.
I fear my lord is slain, quoth she, He stays so from Penelope. 90
At length the ten years siege of Troy Did end: in flames the city burn'd; And to the Grecians was great joy, To see the towers to ashes turn'd: Then came Ulysses home to see 95 His constant, dear, Penelope.
O blame her not if she was glad, When she her lord again had seen. Thrice-welcome home, my dear, she said, A long time absent thou hast been: 100 The wars shall never more deprive Me of my lord whilst I'm alive.
Fair ladies all example take; And hence a worthy lesson learn, All youthful follies to forsake, 105 And vice from virtue to discern: And let all women strive to be, As constant as Penelope.
By Col. Richard Lovelace: from the volume of his poems, intitled _Lucasta_, (Lond. 1649. 12mo.). The elegance of this writer's manner would be more admired, if it had somewhat more of simplicity.
[Percy's admirers would be glad to expunge the above unjust judgment. Some of Lovelace's poems may be affected, but that charge cannot be brought against these exquisite verses, the last two of which have become a world-famed quotation.]
Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde, To warre and armes I flie.
True, a new mistresse now I chase, 5 The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith imbrace A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; 10 I could not love thee, deare, so much, Lov'd I not honour more.
The old story-book of _Valentine and Orson_ (which suggested the plan of this tale, but it is not strictly followed in it) was originally a translation from the French, being one of their earliest attempts at romance. See _Le Bibliothèque de Romans, &c._