58
Poems on
'Tis true, you're meagre, pale, and wan,
The Reason is, you're sick for Man.—
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 every Fragment rose;
Around the Room instead of one,
An hundred pale Ophelia's shone;
Away the frighted Virgin flew,
And humbled, from herself withdrew.
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 every Fragment rose;
Around the Room instead of one,
An hundred pale Ophelia's 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:
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
