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FABLES FOR THE LADIES: THE FEMALE SEDUCERS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Tis said of widow, maid, and wife
Last Line: Sister, come, and turn no more.'
Subject(s): Fables; Seduction; Women; Allegories


'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 quickening gales
That swept Sabæ's spicy vales,
Nor all the healing sweets restore
That breathe along Arabia's shore.
The traveller, if he chance to stray,
May turn uncensur'd to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure;
But woman no redemption knows;
The wounds of honour never close!
Though distant every hand to guide,
Nor skill'd on life's tempestuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the course decreed,
In vain she seeks the friendless shore,
Her swifter folly flies before,
The circling ports against her close,
And shut the wanderer from repose,
Till, by conflicting waves opprest,
Her foundering pinnace sinks to rest.
Are there no offerings to atone
For but a single error? None.
Though Woman is avow'd of old
No daughter of celestial mould,
Her tempering 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 ev'n immortal angels fell.
Whatever fills the teeming sphere
Of humid earth and ambient air,
With varying elements endued,
Was form'd to fall, and rise renew'd.
The stars no fix'd duration know,
Wide oceans ebb again to flow,
The moon repletes her waning 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 some vital spark apart,
Like virtue hid in every heart;
'Tis hence reviving warmth is seen
To clothe a naked world in green;
No longer barr'd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold,
Again each insect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the spring;
Again from every 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 evening suns, decline,
Resolv'd and firm alone?—Is this
What we demand of woman?—'Yes.'
But should the spark of vestal fire
In some unguarded hour expire,
Or should the nightly thief invade
Hesperia's chaste and sacred shade,
Of all the blooming spoil possest,
The dragon Honour charm'd to rest,
Shall virtue's flame no more return,
No more with virgin splendor burn,
No more the ravag'd garden blow
With spring's succeeding blossom?—'No:'
Pity may mourn, but not restore;
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 stream 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 Temperance and Religion nam'd.
A numerous 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 she bore.
As now the maid in stature grew,
(A flow'r just opening to the view)
Oft through her native land she stray'd,
And wrestling with the lambkins play'd;
Her looks diffusive sweets bequeath'd,
The breeze grew purer as she breath'd,
The morn her radiant blush assum'd,
The Spring with earlier fragrance bloom'd,
And Nature yearly took delight,
Like her, to dress the world in white.
But when her rising 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 exprest:
'O joyful cause of many a care!
O Daughter, too divinely fair!
Yon world, on this important day,
Demands thee to a dangerous way;
A painful journey all must go,
Whose doubtful 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 towering hills ascend:
Lo! there the arduous path's in view
Which Virtue and her sons pursue;
With toil o'er lessening earth they rise,
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 dispense,
A food indelicate to sense,
Of taste unpleasant; yet from those
Pure health with cheerful vigour flows,
And strength, unfeeling of decay,
Throughout the long laborious way.
'Hence as they scale that heavenly road
Each limb is lighten'd of its load,
From earth refining still they go,
And leave the mortal weight below;
Then spreads the strait, the doubtful clears,
And smooth the rugged path appears;
For custom turns fatigue to ease,
And, taught by Virtue, Pain can please.
'At length the toilsome journey o'er,
And near the bright celestial shore,
A gulf, black, fearful, and profound,
Appears, of either world the bound,
Through darkness leading up to light,
Sense backward shrinks and shuns the sight;
For there the transitory train
Of Time, and Form, and Care, and Pain,
And matter's gross incumbering mass,
Man's late associates, cannot pass,
But sinking, quit the' immortal charge,
And leave the wondering soul at large;
Lightly she wings her obvious way,
And mingles with eternal day.
'Thither, O thither wing thy speed,
Though Pleasure charm or Pain impede!
To such the' all-bounteous Pow'r has giv'n
For present earth a future Heav'n;
For trivial loss unmeasur'd gain,
And endless bliss for transient pain.
'Then fear, ah! fear to turn thy sight
Where yonder flowery fields invite;
Wide on the left the path-way bends,
And with pernicious ease descends;
There, sweet to sense and fair to show,
New-planted Edens seem to blow,
Trees that delicious poison bear,
For death is vegetable there.
'Hence is the frame of health unbrac'd,
Each sinew slackening at the taste,
The soul to passion yields her throne,
And sees with organs not her own;
While, like the slumberer in the night,
Pleas'd with the shadowy dream of light,
Before her alienated eyes
The scenes of fairy-land arise,
The puppet-world's amusing show
Dipp'd in the gaily-colour'd bow;
Sceptres, and wreaths, and glittering things,
The toys of infants and of kings,
That tempt along the baneful plain
The idly wise and lightly vain,
Till, verging on the gulfy shore,
Sudden they sink, and rise no more.
'But list to what thy Fates declare:
Though thou art woman, frail as fair,
If once thy sliding foot should stray,
Once quit yon heav'n-appointed way,
For thee, lost Maid! for thee alone
Nor prayers shall plead, nor tears atone;
Reproach, scorn, infamy, and hate,
On thy returning steps shall wait;
Thy form be loath'd by every eye,
And every foot thy presence fly.'
Thus arm'd with words of potent sound,
Like guardian angels plac'd around,
A charm by truth divinely cast,
Forward our young adventurer pass'd.
Forth from her sacred eyelids sent,
Like Morn, forerunning radiance went,
While Honour, handmaid late assign'd,
Upheld her lucid train behind.
Awe-struck the much-admiring crowd
Before the virgin vision bow'd,
Gaz'd with an ever-new delight,
And caught fresh virtues at the sight;
For not of earth's unequal frame
They deem'd the Heav'n-compounded dame,
If matter sure the most refin'd,
High wrought and temper'd into mind,
Some darling daughter of the Day,
And bodied by her native ray.
Where'er she passes thousands bend,
And thousands where she moves attend;
Her ways observant eyes confess,
Her steps pursuing praises bless;
While to the elevated Maid
Oblations, as to Heav'n, are paid.
'Twas on an ever-blithsome day,
The jovial birth of rosy May,
When genial warmth, no more supprest,
New-melts the frost in every breast,
The cheek with secret flushing dies,
And looks kind things from chastest eyes;
The sun with healthier visage glows,
Aside his clouded kerchief throws,
And dances up the' ethereal plain,
Where late he us'd to climb with pain;
While Nature, as from bonds set free,
Springs out, and gives a loose to glee.
And now for momentary rest
The Nymph her travell'd step represt,
Just turn'd to view the stage attain'd,
And gloried in the height she gain'd.
Outstretch'd before her wide survey
The realms of sweet Perdition lay,
And Pity touch'd her soul with woe
To see a world so lost below;
When straight the breeze began to breathe
Airs gently wafted from beneath,
That bore commission'd witchcraft thence,
And reach'd her sympathy of sense;
No sounds of discord, that disclose
A people sunk and lost in woes,
But as of present good possess'd,
The very triumph of the bless'd:
The Maid in rapt attention hung,
While thus approaching Sirens sung:
'Hither, Fairest! hither haste,
Brightest Beauty! come and taste
What the powers of bliss unfold,
Joys, too mighty to be told;
Taste what ecstasies they give,
Dying raptures taste, and live.
In thy lap, disdaining measure,
Nature empties all her treasure,
Soft desires that sweetly languish,
Fierce delights that rise to anguish.
Fairest! dost thou yet delay?
Brightest Beauty! come away.
'List not when the froward chide,
Sons of Pedantry and Pride,
Snarlers, to whose feeble sense
April sunshine is offence;
Age and Envy will advise
Ev'n against the joy they prize.
'Come, in Pleasure's balmy bowl
Slake the thirstings of thy soul,
Till thy raptur'd powers are fainting
With enjoyment, past the painting:
Fairest! dost thou yet delay?
Brightest Beauty! come away.'
So sung the Sirens, as of yore
Upon the false Ausonian shore;
And O for that preventing chain
That bound Ulysses on the main!
That so our fair-one might withstand
The covert ruin now at hand.
The song her charm'd attention drew,
When now the tempters stood in view;
Curiosity with prying eyes,
And hands of busy bold emprise;
Like Hermes feather'd were her feet,
And like forerunning fancy fleet:
By search untaught, by toil untir'd,
To novelty she still aspir'd,
Tasteless of every good possest,
And but in expectation blest.
With her associate Pleasure came,
Gay Pleasure! frolic-loving dame!
Her mien all swimming in delight,
Her beauties half reveal'd to sight;
Loose flow'd her garments from the ground,
And caught the kissing winds around:
As erst Medusa's looks were known
To turn beholders into stone,
A dire reversion here they felt,
And in the eye of Pleasure melt:
Her glance, with sweet persuasion charm'd,
Unnerv'd the strong, the steel'd disarm'd,
No safety ev'n the flying find
Who venturous look but once behind.
Thus was the much-admiring Maid,
While distant, more than half betray'd:
With smiles and adulation bland,
They join'd her side and seiz'd her hand;
Their touch envenom'd sweets instill'd,
Her frame with new pulsations thrill'd,
While half consenting, half denying,
Reluctant now, and now complying,
Amidst a war of hopes and fears,
Of trembling wishes, smiling tears,
Still down and down the winning pair
Compell'd the struggling, yielding fair.
As when some stately vessel, bound
To blest Arabia's distant ground,
Borne from her courses, haply lights
Where Barca's flowery clime invites,
Conceal'd around whose treacherous land
Lurk the dire rock and dangerous sand,
The pilot warns, with sail and oar,
To shun the much-suspected shore,
In vain; the tide, too subtly strong,
Still bears the wrestling bark along,
Till foundering, she resigns to Fate,
And sinks o'erwhelm'd with all her freight:
So baffling every bar to sin,
And Heaven's own pilot plac'd within,
Along the devious smooth descent,
With powers increasing as they went,
The dames, accustom'd to subdue,
As with a rapid current drew,
And o'er the fatal bounds convey'd
The lost, the long-reluctant maid.
Here stop, ye fair-ones! and beware,
Nor send your fond affections there;
Yet, yet, your darling, now deplor'd,
May turn, to you and Heav'n restor'd;
Till then with weeping Honour wait,
The servant of her better fate;
With Honour, left upon the shore,
Her friend and handmaid now no more;
Nor with the guilty world upbraid
The fortunes of a wretch betray'd,
But o'er her failing cast the veil,
Remembering, you yourselves are frail.
And now from all-inquiring light
Fast fled the conscious shades of night;
The Damsel from a short repose,
Confounded at her plight, arose.
As when, with slumberous weight opprest,
Some wealthy miser sinks to rest,
Where felons eye the glittering prey,
And steal his hoard of joys away;
He, borne where golden Indus' streams,
Of pearl and quarried diamond dreams,
Like Midas, turns the glebe to ore,
And stands all rapt amidst his store;
But wakens, naked and despoil'd
Of that, for which his years had toil'd:
So far'd the Nymph, her treasure flown,
And turn'd, like Niobe, to stone;
Within, without, obscure, and void,
She felt all ravag'd, all destroy'd:
And, 'O thou curs'd insidious coast!
Are these the blessings thou can'st boast?
These, Virtue! these the joys they find,
Who leave thy Heav'n-topt hills behind?
Shade me, ye pines! ye caverns! hide,
Ye mountains! cover me;' she cried.
Her trumpet Slander rais'd on high,
And told the tidings to the sky;
Contempt discharg'd a living dart,
A sidelong viper, to her heart;
Reproach breath'd poisons o'er her face,
And soil'd and blasted every grace;
Officious Shame, her handmaid new,
Still turn'd the mirror to her view;
While those, in crimes the deepest dy'd,
Approach'd to whiten at her side,
And every lewd insulting dame
Upon her folly rose to fame.
What should she do? Attempt once more
To gain the late-deserted shore?
So, trusting, back the mourner flew;
As fast the train of fiends pursue.
Again the farther shore's attain'd,
Again the land of Virtue gain'd,
But Echo gathers in the wind,
And shows her instant foes behind.
Amaz'd, with headlong speed she tends
Where late she left a host of friends;
Alas! those shrinking friends decline,
Nor longer own that form divine;
With fear they mark the following cry,
And from the lonely trembler fly,
Or backward drive her on the coast
Where Peace was wreck'd and Honour lost.
From earth thus hoping aid in vain,
To Heav'n not daring to complain,
No truce by hostile Clamour giv'n,
And from the face of Friendship driv'n,
The Nymph sunk prostrate on the ground,
With all her weight of woes around.
Enthron'd within a circling sky,
Upon a mount o'er mountains high,
All radiant sat, as in a shrine,
Virtue, first effluence divine!
Far, far above the scenes of woe
That shut this cloud-wrapt world below;
Superior Goddess, essence bright,
Beauty of uncreated light!
Whom should Mortality survey,
As doom'd upon a certain day,
The breath of Frailty must expire,
The world dissolve in living fire,
The gems of Heav'n and solar flame
Be quench'd by her eternal beam,
And Nature, quickening in her eye,
To rise a new-born phœnix, die.
Hence unreveal'd to mortal view,
A veil around her form she threw,
Which three sad sisters of the shade,
Pain, Care, and Melancholy, made.
Through this her all-inquiring eye,
Attentive, from her station high
Beheld, abandon'd to despair,
The ruins of her favourite Fair:
And with a voice, whose awful sound
Appall'd the guilty world around,
Bid the tumultuous winds be still;
To numbers bow'd each listening hill,
Uncurl'd the surging of the main,
And smooth'd the thorny bed of Pain,
The golden harp of Heav'n she strung,
And thus the tuneful Goddess sung:
'Lovely Penitent! arise,
Come and claim thy kindred skies;
Come, thy sister angels say,
Thou hast wept thy stains away.
'Let experience now decide
'Twixt the good and evil tried:
In the smooth enchanting ground
Say, unfold the treasures found.
'Structures, rais'd by morning dreams,
Sands, that trip the flitting streams,
Down, that anchors on the air,
Clouds, that paint their changes there;
'Seas, that smoothly dimpling lie
While the storm impends on high,
Showing, in an obvious glass,
Joys that in possession pass:
'Transient, fickle, light, and gay,
Flattering only to betray,
What, alas! can life contain?
Life, like all its circles, vain!
'Will the stork, intending rest,
On the billow build her nest?
Will the bee demand his store
From the bleak and bladeless shore?
'Man alone, intent to stray,
Ever turns from Wisdom's way,
Lays up wealth in foreign land,
Sows the sea, and ploughs the sand.
'Soon this elemental mass,
Soon the' incumbering world, shall pass,
Form be wrapt in wasting fire,
Time be spent, and life expire.
'Then, ye boasted works of men!
Where is your asylum then?
Sons of Pleasure, sons of Care,
Tell me, mortals! tell me where?
'Gone like traces on the deep,
Like a sceptre grasp'd in sleep,
Dews, exhal'd from morning glades,
Melting snows and gliding shades.
'Pass the world, and what's behind?
Virtue's gold by fire refin'd,
From an universe deprav'd,
From the wreck of Nature, sav'd;
'Like the life-supporting grain,
Fruit of patience and of pain,
On the swain's autumnal day,
Winnow'd from the chaff away.
'Little Trembler! fear no more,
Thou hast plenteous crops in store,
Seed by genial sorrows sown,
More than all thy scorners own.
'What though hostile earth despise?
Heav'n beholds with gentler eyes;
Heav'n thy friendless steps shall guide,
Cheer thy hours, and guard thy side.
When the fatal trump shall sound,
When the' immortals pour around,
Heav'n shall thy return attest,
Hail'd by myriads of the blest.
'Little native of the skies,
Lovely Penitent! arise;
Calm thy bosom, clear thy brow,
Virtue is thy sister now.
'More delightful are my woes
Than the rapture Pleasure knows,
Richer far the weeds I bring
Than the robes that grace a king.
'On my wars of shortest date
Crowns of endless triumphs wait,
On my cares a period blest,
On my toils eternal rest.
'Come, with Virtue at thy side,
Come, be every bar defied,
Till we gain our native shore:
Sister, come, and turn no more.'





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