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Pity may mourn, but not restore;
And woman falls to rise no more!

Within this sublunary sphere
A country lies--no matter where;
The clime may readily be found
By all who tread poetic ground;
A stream, call'd Life, across it glides,
And equally the land divides ;
And here, of Vice, the province lies;
And there, the hills of Virtue rise.

Upon a mountain's airy stand,
Whose summit look'd to either land,
An ancient pair their dwelling chose,
As well for prospect as repose;
For mutual faith they long were fam'd,
And Temp’rance and Religion nam'd.

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

As now the maid in ftature grew (A flow'r just op'ning to the view) Oft through her native lawns she stray'd, And wrestling with the lambkins play'd ; Her looks diffulive sweets bequeath’d, The breeze grew purer as the breath'd ; The morn her radiant blush assum'd, The spring with earlier fragrance bloom'd;

And Nature yearly took delight,
Like her, to drels the world in white.

But when her rising form was seen
To reach the crisis of fifteen,
Her parents up the mountain's head
With anxious step their darling led;
By turns they snatch'd her to their breast,
And thus the fears of age express'd:-

O joyful cause 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, Whose doubted period none can know ; Whose due direction who can find, Where reason's mute, and sense is blind? Ah, what unequal leaders these, Through such a wide perplexing maze! Then mark the warnings of the wise, And learn what love and years advise.

Far to the right thy prospect bend, Where yonder tow'ring hills afcend; Lo, there the arduous path's in view Which Virtue and her fon's pursue ; With toil o'er less'ning earth they rise, And gain, and gain upon the skies. Narrow's the way her children tread, No walk for pleasure smoothly spread, But rough, and difficult, and steep, Painful to climb, and hard to keep.

Fruits immature those lands dispense, A food indelicate to sense,

Of taste unpleasant; yet from those
Pure health, with cheerful vigour, flows ;
And strength, unfeeling of decay,
Throughout the long laborious way.

Hence, as they scale that heav'nly road,
Each limb is lighten'd of its load;
From earth refining ftill they go,
And leave the mortal weight below;
Then spreads the straight, the doubtful clears,
And smooth the rugged path appears ;
For custom turns fatigue to ease,
And, taught by Virtue, pain can please.

At length, the toilsome journey o'er, And near the bright celestial shore, A gulph, black, fearful and profound, Appears, of either world the bound, Through darkness leading up to light; Sense backward shrinks, and shuns the fight; For there the transitory train Of time, and form, and care, and pain, And matter's gross, incumb’ring mass, Man's late associates cannot pass ; But linking, quit th’immortal charge, And leave the wond'ring foul at large ; Lightly she wings her obvious way, And mingles with eternal day.

Thither, oh thither wing thy speed, Though pleasure charm or pain impede! To such th' All-bounteous Pow'r has given, For present earth, a future heaven ; For trivial lufs, unmeasur'd gain; And endless bliss for transient pain,

Then fear, ah! fear, to turn thy sight
Where yonder flowery fields invite :
Wide on the left the path-way bends,
And with pernicious ease descends;
'There, sweet to sense, and fair to show,
New-planted Edens seem to blow,
Trees, that delicious poison bear;
For death is vegetable there,

Hence is the frame of health unbrac'd,,
Each finew sack’ning at the taste,
The soul to passion yields her throne,
And sees with organs not her own ;
While, like the numb'rer in the night,
Pleas'd with the shadowy dream of light,
Before her alienated eyes
The scenes of fairy-land arise ;
The puppet world's amusing show,
Dipt in the gaily-colour'd bow ;
Sceptres, and wreaths, and glittring things,
The toys of infants and of kings,
That tempt, along the baneful plain,
The idly wise and lightly vain,
Till, verging on the gulphy shore,
Sudden they fink—and rise no more.

But list to what thy fates declare ;
Though thou art woman, frail as fair,
If once thy Niding foot should stray,
Once quit von heav'n-appointed way,
For thee, loft maid, for thee alone,
Nor prayers shall plead, nor tears alone;
Reproach, scorn, infamy, and hate,
On thy returning steps shall wait;

Thy form be loath'd by ev'ry eye,
And ev'ry foot thy presence fly..

Thus arm'd with words of potent found,
Like guardian angels plac'd around,
A charm, by Truth divinely caft,
Forward our young advent'rer pass'd ;
Forth from her sacred eye-lids sent,
Like morn, fore-running radiance went;
While Honour, handmaid late afligned,
Upheld her lucid train behind.

Awe-struck, the much-admiring crowd Before the virgin-vision bow'd; Gaz’d with an ever-new delight, And caught fresh virtue at the fight; For not of earth's unequal frame They deem the heav'n-compounded dame; If matter, sure the most refin'd, High-wrought, and temper'd into mind, Some darling daughter of the day, And body'd by her native ray.

Where'er the passes, thousands bend, And thousands where the moves, attend; Her ways obfervant eyes confess, Her steps pursuing praises bless; While to the elevated maid, Oblations, as to Heav'n, are paid.

'Twas on an ever-blithfome day, The jovial birth of rosy May, When genial warmth, no more fuppreft, New melts the frost in ev'ry breast; The cheek with secret flushing dyes, And looks kind things from chaliest eres;

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