Joanna Baillie

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.

The fears of one class of men are not the measure of the rights
of another.

The fears of one class of men are not the measure of the rights
of another.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field,
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Some men are born to feast, and not to fight;
Whose sluggish minds, e'en in fair honor's field,
Still on their dinner turn--
Let such pot-boiling varlets stay at home,
And wield a flesh-hook rather than a sword.

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the read more

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
He now dare trust.