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"With thee he Chastity, of all afraid, "Distrusting all, a wife fufpicious maid; "But man the most—not more the mountain doe "Holds the fwift falcon for her deadly foe. "Cold is her hreast, like flow'rs that drink the dew; '* A silken veil conceals her from the view. "No wild delires amidst thy train he known, "But Faith, whofe heart is nx'd on one alone: "Defponding Meeknefs, with her downcast eyes, "And friendly Pity, full of tender fighs; , "And Love the last. By thefe your hearts approve; "Thefe are the virtues that must lead to love."

Thus fung the fwain; and ancient legends fay, The maids of Bagdat verify'd the lay: . • .;

Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along;
The shephfrds lov'd, aud Selim hlefs'd his fong.



Tis faid of widow, maid, and wife,
That honour is a woman's life;
Unhappy fex! who only claim
A heing in the hreath of fame;
Which tainted, not the quick'ning gale*
That fweep Sahæa's fpicy vales,
Nor all the healing fweets restore,
That hreathe along Arahia's shore.

The trav'sler, if he chance to stray,
May turn uncenfur'd to his way;

Polluted Dreamt again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure:
But woman no redemption knows,
The wounds of honour never close.

Though distant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor skill'd on life's tempestuous tide.
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the courfe decreed,
In vain she feeks the friendlefs fliore,
Her fwifter folly flies before!
The circling ports against her clofe,
And fhut the wand'rer from repofe;
Till by conflicting waves opprefs'd,
Her found'ring pinnace sinks to rest.

Are there no fusF'rmgs to atone For but a fingle error ?—None. Though woman is avow'd, of old, No daughter of celestial mould, Her temp'ring not without allay, And form'd but of the siner clay, We challenge from the mortal dame The strength angelic natures claim; Nay more—for facred stories tell. That e'en immortal angels fell.

Whatever sills the teeming fphere Of humid earth, and ambient air, With varying elements endu'd, Was form'd to fall, and rife reuew'd.

The stars no six'd duration know; Wide oceans ebb, again to flow; The moon repletes her waning face, AU beauteous from her late difgrace;

And funs, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rife with new-born light.

In vain may death aud.time fubdue,
While Nature mints her race anew;,
And holds fome vital fpark apart,
Like virtue, hid in ev'ry heart.
Tis henee reviving warmth is feen,
To clothe a naked world in green.
No longer barr'd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of Ufe unfold;
Again each infect tries his wing,
And lifts frefh pinions on the fpring;
Again from ev'ry latent root
The bladed stem and tendril fhoot,
Exhaling incenfe to the .ikies.
Again to perifh, and to rife.

And must weak woman then difown
The change to which a world is prone?
In one meridian brightnefs mine,
And ne'er like ev'ning funs decline?
RefolvM and sirm alone ?—Is this
What we demand of woman ?—Yea!

But mould the fpark of vestal sire
In fome unguarded hour expire;
Or fhould the nightly thief invade
Hefpcria's chaste and facred shade,
Of all the blooming fpoil possefs'd.
The dragon Honour charnVd to rest:,
Shall Virtue's fame no more return?
No more with virgin fplendor burn?
No more the ravagM garden blow
With fpring's fucceeding blossom ?—No.
Pity may mourn, but not restore;
And woman falls—to rise no more!

'Within this fublunary fphere
A country lies—no matter where;
The clime may readily be found
By all who tread poetic ground;
A stream, callM Life, acrofs it glides,
And equally the land divides;
And here, of Vice, the province lies;
And there, the hills of Virtue rife.

Upon a mountain's airy stand,
Whofe fummit look'd to either land,
An ancient pair their dwelling chofe,
As well for profpect as repofe;
For mutual faith they long were fam'd.
And Temp'rance and Religion nam'd.

A num'rous progeny divine
ConfefsM the honours of their line;
But in a little daughter fair
Was center'd more than half their care;
For Heav'n, to gratulatc her birth,
Gave signs of future joy to earth;
White was the robe this infant wore,
And Chastity the name me bore.

As now the maid in stature grew
(A slow'r just op'ning to the view)
Oft through her native lawns the stray M9
And wrestling with the lambkins playM;
Her looks dissusive fweets bequeath'd,
The breeze grew purer as siV breath's!;
The morn her radiant bluih aflumM,
The fpring with earlier fragrance bloom'd;

^nd Nature yearly took delight. Like her, to dress the world in white.

But when her rifmg form was feen To reach the crisis of sifteen, Her parents up the mountain's head With anxious step their darling led; By turns they fnatch'd her to their hreasti And thus the fears of age exprefs'd:—

O joyful caufe of many a care! O daughter, too divinely fair! Yon world, on this important day, Demands thee to a dang'rous way; A painful journey all must go, W hofe douhted period none can know; Whofe due direction who can sind, Where reafon's mute, and fenfe is hlind? Ah, what unequal leaders thefe, Through fuch a wide perplexing maze! Then mark the warnings of the wife, And learn what love and years advife.

Far to the right thy profpect hend, Where yonder tow'ring hills afcend; ► Lo, there the arduous path's in view Which Virtue and her fon's purfue; With toil o'er lefs'ning earth they rife, And gain, and gain upon the ikies. Narrow's the way her children tread, No walk for pleafure fmoothly fpread, But rough, and dissicult, and steep, Painful to climh, and hard to keep.

Fruits immature thofe lands difpenfe, A food indelicate to fenfe,

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