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 sphere
Of humid carth, and ambient air,.
With varying elements endu'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 ftem and tendril fhoot,
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?-
But, fhould the spark of veftal fire,
In fome unguarded hour,, expire,
Or, fhould the nightly thief invade
Hefperia's chafte and facred fhade,
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.
Upon a mountain's airy ftand,
Whofe fummit look'd to either land,
An antient pair their dwelling chose,
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,
Confefs'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 figns of future joy to earth;
White was the robe this infant wore,
And Chastity the name she bore.
As now the maid in ftature grew,
(A flow'r juft op'ning to the view)
Oft thro' her native lawns she stray'd,
And, wrestling with the lambkins, play'd;
Her looks diffufive fweets bequeath'd,
The breeze grew purer as the breath'd,
The morn her radiant blush affum'd,
The fpring with earlier fragrance bloom'd;
And Nature, yearly, took delight,
Like her, to drefs the world in white.
But, when her rifing form was feen
To reach the crifis of fifteen,
Her parents up the mountain's head,
With anxious step their darling led;
By turns they fnatch'd her to their breast,
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,
Whofe doubtful period none can know,
Whofe due direction who can find,
Where Reason's mute, and Senfe is blind?
Ah, what unequal leaders thefe,
Thro' fuch 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 paths in view,
Which Virtue and her fons pursue ;
With toil o'er leffening earth they rife,
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 difpenfe,
A food indelicate to fenfe,
Of taste unpleasant; yet, from thofe,
Pure health, with chearful vigour, flows,
And ftrength, 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 fpreads the strait, the doubtful clears,,
And fmooth the rugged path appears;
For custom turns fatigue to eafe,
And, taught by virtue, pain can please..
At length, the toilfome journey o'er,
And near the bright, celeftial fhore,
A gulph, black, fearful, and profound,
Appears, of either world the bound,
Thro' darkness leading up to light;
Senfe backward fhrinks, and fhuns the fight ;;
For there the tranfitory train,
Of time, and form, and care, and pain,.
And matter's grofs incumb'ring mafs,
Man's late affociates, cannot pass,
But, finking, quit th' immortal charge,,
And leave the wond'ring foul at large;;
Lightly the wings her obvious way,
And mingles with eternal day.
'Thither, O thither wing thy fpeed,.
Though pleasure charm, or pain impede ;:
To fuch th' all-bounteous pow'r has giv'n,,
For prefent earth, a future Heav'n ;
For trivial lofs, unmeafur'd gain,
And endless blifs, for tranfient pain.
Then fear, ah! fear to turn thy fight:
Where yonder flow'ry fields invite;
Wide on the left the path-way bends,
And with pernicious ease defcénds;
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