Now, fearlefs, by his fide fhe walk'd,
Of fettlements and jointures talk'd;
Propos'd, and doubled her demands,
Of flow'ry fields, and turnip-lands.
The wolf agrees. Her bofom fwells;
To mifs her happy fate fhe tells ;
And, of the grand alliance vain,
Contemns her kindred of the plain.

The loathing lamb with horror hears,
And wearies out her dam with pray'rs
But all in vain; mamma best knew
What unexperienc'd girls fhould do;
So, to the neighb'ring meadow carry'd,
A formal afs the couple marry'd.

Torn from the tyrant mother's fide,
The trembler goes, a victim-bride,
Reluctant meets the rude embrace,
And bleats among the howling race.
With horror oft her eyes behold
Her murder'd kindred of the fold;
Each day a fifter lamb is ferv'd,
And at the glutton's table carv'd;
The crashing bones he grinds for food,
And flakes his thirft with ftreaming blood.
Love, who the cruel mind detefts,
And lodges but in gentle breafts,
Was now no more. Enjoyment past,
The favage hunger'd for the feast;
But (as we find in human race,
A mafk conceals the villain's face)

Juftice muft authorize the treat;

Till then he long'd, but durft not eat.
As forth he walk'd, in queft of prey,
The hunters met him on the way;

Fear wings his flight; the marsh he fought;
The fnuffing dogs are fet at fault.

His ftomach baulk'd, now hunger gnaws;
Howling, he grinds his empty jaws;
Food must be had- -and lamb is nigh;
His maw invokes the fraudful lye.
Is this (diffembling rage) he cry'd,
The gentle virtue of a bride?

That, leagu'd with man's deftroying race,
She fets her husband for the chace?
By treach'ry prompts the npify hound
To fcent his footsteps on the ground?
Thou trait'refs vile! for this thy blood
Shall glut my rage, and dye the wood!
So faying, on the lamb he flies ;
Beneath his jaws the victim dies.

THE

THE

FEMALE SEDUCERS.

'T'

IS faid of widow, maid, and wife,
That Honour is a woman's life;

Unhappy fex! who only claim

A being, in the breath of fame;
Which tainted, not the quick'ning gales,
That sweep Sabæa's spicy vales,
Nor all the healing sweets restore,
That breathe along Arabia's fhore.

The trav'ler, if he chance to ftray,
May turn, uncenfur'd, to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure;
But woman! no redemption knows;
The wounds of honour never close.

Tho' diftant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor skill'd on life's tempeftuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the courfe decreed,
In vain fhe feeks the friendly fhore;
Her fwifter folly flies before;
The circling ports against her close,
And shut the wand'rer from repofe;
Till, by conflicting waves opprefs'd,
Her found'ring pinnace finks to rest.

C 5

Are

Are there no offerings to atone
For but a fingle error? -None..
Tho' woman is avow'd, of old,
No daughter of celeftial mold,
Her temp'ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clay,
We challenge, from the mortal dame,.
The ftrength angelic natures claim;
Nay more; for facred ftories tell,
That ev'n immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming fphere
Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying elements enda'd,
Was form'd to fall, and rife renew'd.
The ftars no fix'd duration know,
Wide oceans ebb, again to flow,
The moon repletes her waining face,
All-beauteous, from her late difgrace,
And funs, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rife with new-born light.

In vain may Death and Time fubdue, While Nature mints her race anew, And holds fome vital spark apart, Like virtue, hid in ev'ry heart; 'Tis hence reviving warmth is feen,. To cloathe a naked world in green. No longer barr'd by winter's cold, Again the gates of life unfold; Again each infect tries his wing, And lifts fresh pinions on the fpring;

Again, from ev'ry latent root,

The bladed stem and tendril shoot,
Exhaling incense to the skies,

Again to perish, and to rife.

And must weak woman, then, difown
The change, to which a world is prone?
In one meridian brightness shine,

And ne'er, like evening funs, decline?
Refolv'd and firm alone ?. -Is this
What we demand of woman ?- -Yes.
But, fhould the fpark of veftal fire,
In fome unguarded hour, expire,
Or, fhould the nightly thief invade
Hefperia's chafte and facred shade,
Of all the blooming spoil poffefs'd,
The dragon Honour charm'd to rest,
Shall Virtue's flame no more return?
No more with virgin fplendor burn ? }
No more the ravag'd garden blow
With Spring's fucceeding bloffom ?-No.
Pity may mourn, but not restore;
And woman falls, to rife no more.
Within this fublunary sphere,
A country lies-No matter where;
The clime may readily be found
By all, who tread poetic ground.
A ftream, 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.
C 6

Upon