Classic Poem

Of much Wit and personal Charms, who inform'd the Author of her having resolved to quit the World, (on a sudden Disgust) and retire into a French Convent .

— — I'll hear no more — What epidemic Rage
Attacks the Female Weakness of the Age?
Fly to a Convent! quit thy native Isle!
What, suffer cloister'd Idiots to beguile?
And with their seeming Rhapsody of Soul,
Shall they enslave thy Mind? Thy Steps controul?
Shame on't: Has our dear E NGLAND lost her Charms,
That you would haste to Gallia 's subtle Arms?
All Prejudice apart, turn but your Eyes,
And take a View what your own Clime supplies,
Is not fair Nature bountifully kind?
Have we not ev'ry Blessing that should bind,
And rivet your Affections here alone?
You cannot err, if Reason keeps her Throne,
And but to hesitate, is to deny,
Truths which are glaring to the vulgar Eye .
Nay, further still; should you too lightly deem,
Of Nature's Bounty, (tho' so rich a Theme!)
What noble Splendor, what attractive Grace,
Are here display'd in this stupendous Place!
Balls, Op'ras, Plays; such various Delight,
To feast the Senses, captivate the Sight;
That to retreat from such a glorious Scene,
Would be Injustice, — even in a Queen:
But to select one Proof: The highest Treat
Which Art can furnish, and Expence complete,
And in that one to comprehend them all,
View C ORNELLY'S Display at a full Ball:
There — but Description would, it sure must fail;
And therefore to avoid a long Detail,
Unequal too, accept the following Tale.

S TORY reports, and I believe it true,
A certain noble Lord, no matter who,
Took with him there, upon a Gala Night ,
A grave Divine, to view this rapt'rous Sight;
Lo, the Effects! The Parson with Amaze,
(Like Country Bumpkins who at London gaze)
Rais'd high his Hands, and eke his ravish'd Eyes,
And to his kind Conductor thus he cries.
" Beseech you, good my Lord, forbid the Gown
Shou'd gain Admittance here; why the whole Town
From Pulpit would be told: I feel , I know ,
That all we mean by Heaven is, S OHO . "
Without a Comment on this pious Praise ,
Can you then quit these Halcyon Nights and Days,
Which here you may enjoy in so much Taste?
Indeed, Lorretta , you're too much in haste:
What! quit the World in the fair Bloom of Youth!
When Beauties, such as yours, (I speak but Truth)
Grace the gay Circle with superior Charms,
Inspiring Love, and all its sweet Alarms?
This cruel Purpose lay aside, my Fair,
When thou art gone, farewel my staying here;
I'll suddenly take Flight, and bid adieu
To Country, Friends, and all — to follow You .
But soft! Methinks, to aggravate my Fears,
A Lady Abbess formally appears,
With Look demure, and hypocritic Face,
Cries " Youth, forbear, no Entrance in this Place;
To break off further Converse with the World,
Our pious Sisters here are come resolv'd;
And shall we suffer Purity of Life
To be disturb'd with Noise and worldly Strife?
It must not, cannot be; retreat, vain Boy,
Govern those headstrong Passions which destroy
Your Reason thus, and make you idly roam
For Peace Abroad, within your Reach at Home. " —
Here's Consolation for a Wretch like me,
Who fondly hop'd to live for only thee;
If you persist in this romantic Flight,
Farewel to all; I'll bid the World Good Night;
Nor longer will I bear the Face of Day,
If thou withdraw thy Light, my genial Ray.
What further shall I urge? What more relate,
To make thee still reject this banesul State?
Thou can'st not know what cloister'd Rules impose;
What strange Severity these bigot Foes,
(Under Religion's Mask) inflict on all,
Who, blind to Happiness, and Freedom's Call,
Quit sweet Society, enslave the Mind,
And suffer Wretches of this Stamp to bind
In stuperstitious Bonds, give up their Right,
To think and act by Reason's pow'rful Light.
These rigid Trials, justly plac'd in view,
Consider well — will they agree with You ?
Can you determine, all at once , to give
Your Freedom up, to die with these, not live ?
Life, or I much mistake the Gracious Will,
Shou'd useful, active be, but theirs mere still .
Consider well, nor rashly thus engage,
Or goading Sorrows may afflict your Age;
Each coming Hour may furnish added Pain,
Shou'd you repent, and wish Life free again.
Lorretta pause, and on Reflection's Light,
You'll hold your present Scheme so justly slight,
That with approving Heart you'll bless the Time,
When Strephon thus prevail'd with honest Rhime.