韵虽能束缚大诗人的思想，却更能衬托小诗人的情怀。当我写散文的时候，我常常发现我的感觉被一堆乱七八糟的文字淹没了。在诗歌中，就像在平原上行军的军队中一样，他们中间最微不足道的人也不会感到痛苦。我们必须承认，这是良好秩序的功劳;否则，渺小的人就会迷失在人群中。现在，简而言之，下面的诗句是为了告诉你我的悲伤。我写得很好;因为我几乎说不出话来，我的牙齿老是咬人。当风吹向南方的时候，因为怕冷，我不能开口。你知道，对女人来说，一定是心都碎了，患了热病，她们就不能说话了。我刚开始一天一夜不说话的时候，女人们都吓坏了。 Supplications to Jove, in an Instant, they make-- ``Avert the Portent--a Woman not speak! ``Since Poets are Prophets, and often have sung, ``The last Thing that dies in a Woman's her Tongue; ``O Jove, for what Crime is Sapphira thus curst? ``'Tis plain by her Breathing, her Tongue has dy'd first. ``Ye Powers celestial, tell Mortals, what Cause ``Occasions Dame nature to break her own Laws? ``Did the Preacher live now, from his Text he must run; ``And own there was something new under the Sun. ``O Jove, for the future this Punishment spare; ``And all other Evils we'll willingly bear.'' Then they throng to my House, and my Maid they beseech, To say, if her Mistress had quite lost her Speech. Nell readily own'd, what they heard was too true; That To--day I was dumb, give the Devil his Due: And frankly confess'd, were it always the Case, No Servant could e'er have a happier Place. When they found it was Fact, they began all to fear me; And, dreading Infection, would scarcely come near me: Till a Neighbour of mine, who was famous for Speeching, Bid them be of good Cheer, the Difease was not catching; And offer'd to prove, from Authors good Store, That the like Case with this never happen'd before; And if Ages to come should resemble the past, As 'twas the first Instance, it would be the last. Yet against this Disorder we all ought to strive: Were I in her Case, I'd been bury'd alive. Were I one Moment silent, except in my Bed, My good natur'd Husband would swear I was dead. The next said, her Tongue was so much in her Pow'r, She was sullenly silent almost--half an Hour: That, to vex her good Man, she took this Way to But soon left it off, when she found it would please him: And vow'd, for the future, she'd make the Housering; For when she was dumb, he did nothing but sing. Quite tir'd with their Talking, I held down my Head: So she who sat next me, cry'd out, I was dead. They call'd for cold Water to throw in my Face: Give her Air, give her Air--and cut open her Lace. Says good Neighbour Nevil, You're out of your Wits; She oft, to my Knowledge, has these sullen Fits: Let her Husband come in, and make one Step that's wrong, My Life for't, the Woman will soon find her Tongue. You'll soon be convinc'd--O' my Conscience, he's here-- Why what's all this Rout?--Are you sullen, my Dear? This struck them all silent; which gave me some Ease. And made them imagine they'd got my Disease. So they hasted away in a terrible Fright; And left me, in Silence, to pass the long Night. Not the Women alone were scar'd at my Fate; 'Twas reckon'd of dreadful Portent to the State. When the Governors heard it, they greatly were troubled; And, whilst I was silent, the Guards were all doubled: The Militia Drums beat a perpetual Alarm, To rouze up the Sons of the City to arm. A Story was rumour'd about from Lambey, Of a powerful Fleet, that was seen off at Sea. With Horror all list to the terrible Tale; The Barristers tremble, the Judges grow pale; To the Castle the frighted Nobility fly; And the Council were summon'd, they could not tell why; The Clergy in Crouds to the Churches repair; And Armies, embattled, were seen in the Air. Why they were in this Fright, I have lately been told, It seems, it was sung by a Druid of old, That the Hanover Race to Great--Britain should come; And sit on the Throne, till a Woman grew dumb. As soon as this Prophecy reach'd the Pretender, He cry'd out, My Claim to the Crown I surrender.