No more we meet in yonder bowers, Perhaps my soul's too prone to roving, But older, firmer _hearts_ than ours, Have found monotony in loving. 8. Your cheeks soft bloom is unimpair'd, Your beauties still are daily bright'ning, Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd, The forge of love's resistless lightning. 9. Arm'd thus to make their bosoms bleed, Many will throng to sigh like me, love, More constant they may prove indeed, Fonder alas! they ne'er can be, love! * * * * * TO WOMAN. Surely experience might have told me, That all must love thee, who behold thee; Surely experience might have taught, A woman's promises are naught, But plac'd in all thy charms before me, All I forget, but to _adore_ thee. Oh memory! thou choicest blessing, When join'd with hope, when still possessing; Thou whisperest, as our hearts are beating, "What oft we've done, we're still repeating." But how much curst by every lover, When hope is fled, and passion's over. Woman that fair and fond deceiver, How prompt are striplings to believe her, How throbs the pulse, when first we view, The eye that rolls in glossy blue; Or sparkles black, or mildly throws, A beam from under hazel brows; How quick we credit every oath, And hear her plight the willing troth; Fondly we hope 'twill last for aye, When lo! she changes in a day, The Record will forever stand, "That woman's vows, are writ in sand." * * * * * AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE DELIVERED BY THE AUTHOR, PREVIOUS TO THE PERFORMANCE OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, AT A PRIVATE THEATRE.