Eighteenth-Century Audio

Source: Norton Anthology Archive Audio Recordings. Norton’s set-up does not allow us to link directly to this site, but if you navigate there you can click to play this poem: http://www.wwnorton.com/college/english/nael/noa/audio_romantic.htm

Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
O born to rule in partial Law’s despite,
Resume thy native empire o’er the breast!

Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;
That angel pureness which admits no stain;
Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,
And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store
Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon’s roar,
Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim,–
Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;
Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,
Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;
Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;
Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:
Be, more than princes’ gifts, thy favours sued;–
She hazards all, who will the least allow.

But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
On this proud eminence secure to stay;
Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find
Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,
Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,
In Nature’s school, by her soft maxims taught,
That separate rights are lost in mutual love.

Source: UMW Download Title

Say, tyrant Custom, why must we obey

The impositions of thy haughty sway?

From the first dawn of life unto the grave,

Poor womankind’s in every state a slave,

The nurse, the mistress, parent and the swain,

For love she must, there’s none escape that pain.

Then comes the last, the fatal slavery:

The husband with insulting tyranny

Can have ill manners justified by law,

For men all join to keep the wife in awe.

Moses, who first our freedom did rebuke,

Was married when he writ the Pentateuch.

They’re wise to keep us slaves, for well they know,

If we were loose, we should soon make them so.

We yield like vanquished kings whom fetters bind,

When chance of war is to usurpers kind;

Submit in form; but they’d our thoughts control,

And lay restraints on the impassive soul.

They fear we should excel their sluggish parts,

Should we attempt the sciences and arts;

Pretend they were designed for them alone,

So keep us fools to raise their own renown.

Thus priests of old, their grandeur to maintain,

Cried vulgar eyes would sacred laws profane;

So kept the mysteries behind a screen:

Their homage and the name were lost had they been seen.

But in this blessèd age such freedom’s given,

That every man explains the will of heaven;

And shall we women now sit tamely by,

Make no excursions in philosophy,

Or grace our thoughts in tuneful poetry?

We will our rights in learning’s world maintain;

Wit’s empire now shall know a female reign.

Come, all ye fair, the great attempt improve,

Divinely imitate the realms above:

There’s ten celestial females govern wit,

And but two gods that dare pretend to it.

And shall these finite males reverse their rules?

No, we’ll be wits, and then men must be fools.

Source: LibriVox. Download link

Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
O born to rule in partial Law’s despite,
Resume thy native empire o’er the breast!

Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;
That angel pureness which admits no stain;
Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,
And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store
Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon’s roar,
Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim,–
Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;
Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,
Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;
Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;
Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:
Be, more than princes’ gifts, thy favours sued;–
She hazards all, who will the least allow.

But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
On this proud eminence secure to stay;
Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find
Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,
Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,
In Nature’s school, by her soft maxims taught,
That separate rights are lost in mutual love.