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“ With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,
“ Diftrufting all, a wise fufpicious maid;
“ But man the most-not more the mountain doe
“ Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe.
“ Cold is her breast, like flow'rs that drink the dew;
" A filken veil conceals her from the view.
“ No wild desires amidit thy train be known,
“ But Faith, whose heart is fix'd on one alone :
Desponding Meekness, with her downcat eyes,
“ And friendly Pity, full of tender fighs ;
“ And Love the last. By these your hearts approve;
" These are the virtues that must lead to love."

Thus fung the swain ; and ancient legends fay,
The maids of Bagdat verify'd the lay:
Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along ;
The shepherds lov'd, and Selim blefs'd his fong.


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Tis said of widow, maid, and wife,
That honour is a woman's life ;
Unhappy sex! 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 shore.

The tray’ller, if he chance to stray,
May tura uncensur'd to his way ;

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

Though diftant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor skilld on life's tempestuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the course decreed,
In vain she feeks the friendless shore,
Her swifter folly flies before !
The circling ports against her clofe,
And shut the wand'rer from repose ;
Till by conflicting waves oppress’d,
Her found'ring pinnace links to reft.

Are there no sufførings to atone For but a single 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 finer clay, , We challenge from the mortal dame The strength angelic natures claim ; Nay more--for sacred stories tell, That e'en immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming fphere Of humid earth, and ambient air, With varying elements endu'd, Was form'd to fall, and rise renewid.

The stars no fix'd duration know; Wide oceans ebb, again to flow; The moon repletes her wanjng face, All beauteous from her late disgrace;

And suns, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rise with new-born light.

In vain may death and time subdue,
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 clothe a naked world in green.
No longer barrd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold;
Again each infect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the spring ;
Again from ev'ry latent root
The bladed stem and tendril shoot,
Exhaling incense to the skies,
Again to perish, and to rise.

And must weak woman then disown
The change to which a world is prone ?
In one meridian brightness shine,
And ne'er like ev'ning suns decline ?
Resolv'd and firm alone : Is this
What we demand of woman? Yes!

But should the spark of vestal fire In fume unguarded hour expire ; Or should the nightly thief invade Hesperia's chaste and sacred shade, Of all the blooming spoil poffess’d, The dragon Honour charm'd to rest, Shall Virtue's flaine no more return? No more with virgin fplendor burn? No more the ravag'd garden blow With spring's succeeding blossom ?-No.

Pity may mourn, but not reftore;
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 fiream, 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 the stray'd, And wrestling with the lambkins play'd ; Her looks diffufive 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 dresy the world in white.

But when her riang 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 ascend; Lo, there the arduous path's in view Which Virtue and her ton'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 plea 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,

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