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 spoils possess'd, The dragon, honour, charm'd to rest, Shall VIRTUE'S flame no more return? No more with virgin splendour 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. [Illustration: _Lovely Penitent, arise, Come, and claim thy kindred skies;_ _Page 92._ _London Published by Scatcherd & Letterman, Ave Maria Lane._] 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 TEMP'RANCE, and RELIGION, nam'd. A num'rous 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 op'ning to the view) Oft thro' her native lawns 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 express'd: "O joyful cause of many a care! O daughter, too divinely fair! Yon world, on this important day, Demands thee to a dang'rous 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, Thro' 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 tow'ring hills ascend; Lo! there the arduous path's in view, Which VIRTUE, and her sons, pursue; With toil, o'er less'ning 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.