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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431460" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Melinda's Complaint</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the side of a glimmering fire, <br>Melinda sat pensively down, <br>Impatient of rural esquire, <br>And vex'd to be absent from Town. <br>The cricket, from under the grate, <br>With a chirp to her sighs did reply, <br>And the kitten, as grave as a cat, <br>Sat mournfully purring hard by. <br>"Alas! silly maid that I was!" <br>Thus sadly complaining, she cried; <br>"When first I forsook that dear place, <br>'T were better by far I had died! <br>How gaily I pass'd the long day, <br>In a round of continu'd delight; <br>Park, visits, assemblies, and play, <br>And quadrille to enliven the night. <br>"How simple was I to believe <br>Delusive poetical dreams! <br>The flattering landskips they give <br>Of groves, meads, and murmuring streams. <br>Bleak mountains, and wild staring rocks, <br>Are the wretched result of my pains; <br>The swains greater brutes than their flocks, <br>And the nymphs as polite as the swains. <br>"What though I have skill to ensnare, <br>Where Smarts in bright circles abound; <br>What though at St. James's at prayers, <br>Beaux ogle devoutly around: <br>Fond virgin, thy power is lost, <br>On a race of rude Hottentot brutes; <br>What glory in being the toast <br>Of noisy dull 'squires in boots? <br>"And thou, my companion, so dear, <br>My all that is left of relief, <br>Whatever I suffer, forbear -- <br>Forbear to dissuade me from grief: <br>'Tis in vain then, you'll say to repine <br>At ills which cannot be redress'd, <br>But in sorrows so pungent as mine, <br>To be patient, alas! is a test. <br>"If, further to soothe my distress, <br>Thy tender compassion is led, <br>Call Jenny to help me undress, <br>And decently put me to bed. <br>The last humble solace I wait, <br>Would Heaven indulge me the boon, <br>Some dream less unkind than my fate, <br>In a vision transport me to Town. <br>"Clarissa, meantime, weds a beau, <br>Who decks her in golden array; <br>The finest at every fine show, <br>And flaunts it at Park and at Play; <br>Whilst here we are left in the lurch, <br>Forgot and secluded from view; <br>Unless when some bumpkin at church <br>Stares wistfully over the pew."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lady+Mary+Wortley+Montagu">Lady Mary Wortley Montagu</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431460" data-title="Melinda's Complaint de Lady Mary Wortley Montagu" data-description="By the side of a glimmering fire, Melinda sat pensively down, Impatient of rural esquire, And vex'd to be absent from Town. The cricket, from under the grate, With a chirp to her sighs did reply, And the kitten, as grave as a cat, Sat mourn..."></div> </div> </div>
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