Classic Poem

While she had the G een-sickness

The gay Ophelia view'd her face
In the clear crystal of her glass;
The lighting from her eye was fled,
Her cheek was pale, the roles dead.
Then thus Ophelia with a frown —
" Art thou, fahe thing! perfidious grown?
" I never could have thought, I swear,
" To find so great a slanderer there.
" False thing! thy malice I defy;
" Beaux vow I'm fair — who never lie.
" More brittle far than brittle thou
" Would ev'ry grace of woman grow
" If charms so great so soon decay,
" The bright possession of a day!
" But this I know, and this declare,
" That thou art false, and I am fair. "
The Glass was vex'd to be bely'd,
And thus with angry tone reply'd:
" No more to me of falsehood talk,
" But leave your oatineal and your chalk.
" 'Tis true you're meagre, pale, and wan;
" The reason is you're sick for man. " —
While yet it spoke, Ophelia frown'd,
And dash'd th' offender to the ground:
With fury from her arm it fled,
And round a glitt'ring ruin spread;
When lo! the parts pale looks disclose;
Pale looks in ev'ry fragment rose:
Around the room instead of one
An hundred pale Ophelias shone.
Away the frighted virgin flew,
And humbled, from herself withdrew.

THE MORAL .

Ye beaux! who tempt the fair and young
With snuff and nonsense, dance and song;
Ye men of compliment and lace!
Behold this image in the glass;
The wondrous force of flatt'ry prove
To cheat fond virgins into love:
Tho' pale the cheek, yet swear it glows
With the vermilion of the rose:
Praise them — for praise is always true,
Tho' with both eyes the cheat they view.
From hateful truths the virgin flies,
But the false sex is caught with lies.