Clergyman's

What has that wretched damsel left to boast,
What good on earth, whose virtuous praise is lost?
- John Hoole

What has that wretched damsel left to boast,
What good on earth, whose virtuous praise is lost?
- John Hoole

The spotless maid is like the blooming rose
Which on its native stem unsullied grows;
Where fencing walls the garden-space surround,
Nor swains, nor browsing cattle tread the ground.
But if some hand the tender stalk invades,
Lost is its beauty, and its colour fades:
No more the care of heaven, or garden's boast,
And all its praise with youths and maidens lost.
- John Hoole

What more our folly shows,
Than while we others seek, ourselves to lose?
- John Hoole

Not beauty, wealth, or lineage e'er could raise
A woman's name to height of praise,
If not in action chaste.
- John Hoole

But such their power who rule with tyrant sway,
Whom most they loath the people most obey.
- John Hoole

Ah! why so rare does cruel Love inspire
Two tender bosoms with a mutual fire?
Say, whence, perfidious, dost thou pleasure find
To sow dissension in the human mind?
- John Hoole

The youth, who pants to gain the amorous prize,
Forgets that Heaven with all-discerning eyes
Surveys the secret heart; and when desire
Has, in possession, quenched its short-lived fire,
The devious winds aside each promise bear,
And scatter all his solemn vows in air!
- John Hoole

When Fame, O monarch! good or evil tells,
Evil or good beyond the truth she swells.
- John Hoole

Reflect, ye gentle dames, that much they know,
Who gain experience from another's woe.
- John Hoole