Classic Poem

ON GOING INTO THE COUNTRY

This verse, dear M OLLY , I to thee assign,
Nor all my views to elder worth confine;
But what, on this occasion, shall I say,
How form and turn the warm, the faithful lay?
Rather my fond affection let me shew,
That teach the lines with artful times to glow,
While life's gay scenes before you sportive rise,
And tempt you forth with glowing forms, and dies;
Still as the flow'ry lengths you smiling pass,
Beware the serpent lurking in the grass —
The serpent man! of all the reptile race
Most subtle, daring, treach'rous, pois'nous, base!
The serpent man! who haunts the virgin's way,
Women his sport! women his constant prey?
These your first views, but make it still your care,
Of all extremes to be alike aware,
Nor life mistaking, and its social good,
Sink down and settle in the sullen prude,
The purport mark, and meditate the end,
To which man's overtures still doubtful tend,
And thus the false distinguish from the true,
As prudence bids, your cautious plan pursue.
Thus try, the man, 'tis his, remember well,
His to attack — your's, M OLLY to repel;
Acquit yourself, maintain the well-fought field,
And only with, not at discretion, yield.
Think that you fall for ever, if you fall,
A woman's honour — is a woman's all.
In this wit, beauty, fortune, form, and mind,
She gives, like atoms, to the whistling wind;
All worth, all pleasure, is with honour lost,
A truth that thousands witness to their cost.
The fate of women deeply we deplore,
They fall like stars, that set to rise no more.
But why this topic with such ardour prest,
To you, with innocence, with virtue blest?
Not that I think you weak proceeds my song,
But that I know the wretch, false man is strong;
My fears from fondness, not suspicion rise,
No storm he dreads, who risks at sea no prize.
Indulgent then, the friendly strains receive,
A friendly strain is all a bard can give,
Some worth still waits on poverty's rude call,
A mite has value, when a mite is all.