They walk on four legs, and he walks on two, Attracts our eye; and flowing from that source, Sins of the blackest character, sins worse 260 Than all her plagues, which truly to unfold, Would make the best blood in my veins run cold, And strike all manhood dead, which but to name, Would call up in my cheeks the marks of shame: Sins, if such sins can be, which shut out grace, Which for the guilty leave no hope, no place, E'en in God's mercy; sins 'gainst Nature's plan Possess the land at large, and man for man Burns, in those fires, which Hell alone could raise To make him more than damn'd; which, in the days 270 Of punishment, when guilt becomes her prey, With all her tortures she can scarce repay. Be grace shut out, be mercy deaf, let God With tenfold terrors arm that dreadful nod Which speaks them lost, and sentenced to despair; Distending wide her jaws, let Hell prepare, For those who thus offend amongst mankind, A fire more fierce, and tortures more refined. On earth, which groans beneath their monstrous weight, On earth, alas! they meet a different fate; 280 And whilst the laws, false grace, false mercy shown, Are taught to wear a softness not their own, Men, whom the beasts would spurn, should they appear Amongst the honest herd, find refuge here. No longer by vain fear or shame controll'd, From long, too long, security grown bold, Mocking rebuke, they brave it in our streets, And Lumley e'en at noon his mistress meets: So public in their crimes, so daring grown, They almost take a pride to have them known, 290 And each unnatural villain scarce endures To make a secret of his vile amours. Go where we will, at every time and place, Sodom confronts, and stares us in the face; They ply in public at our very doors, And take the bread from much more honest whores. Those who are mean high paramours secure, And the rich guilty screen the guilty poor; The sin too proud to feel from reason awe, And those who practise it, too great for law. 300 Woman, the pride and happiness of man, Without whose soft endearments Nature's plan Had been a blank, and life not worth a thought; Woman, by all the Loves and Graces taught, With softest arts, and sure, though hidden skill, To humanise, and mould us to her will; Woman, with more than common grace form'd here, With the persuasive language of a tear To melt the rugged temper of our isle, Or win us to her purpose with a smile; 310 Woman, by Fate the quickest spur decreed, The fairest, best reward of every deed Which bears the stamp of honour; at whose name Our ancient heroes caught a quicker flame, And dared beyond belief, whilst o'er the plain, Spurning the carcases of princes slain, Confusion proudly strode, whilst Horror blew The fatal trump, and Death stalk'd full in view; Woman is out of date, a thing thrown by,