Though he who bribes may still his vote command. Why would not Ellen to Belinda speak, When she had flown to London for a week, And then return'd, to every friend's surprise, With twice the spirit, and with half the size? She spoke not then--but, after years had flown, A better friend had Ellen never known: Was it the lady her mistake had seen? Or had she too on such a journey been? No: 'twas the gradual change in human hearts, That time, in commerce with the world, imparts; That on the roughest temper throws disguise, And steals from virtue her asperities. The young and ardent, who with glowing zeal Felt wrath for trifles, and were proud to feel, Now find those trifles all the mind engage, To soothe dull hours, and cheat the cares of age; As young Zelinda, in her quaker-dress, Disdain'd each varying fashion's vile excess, And now her friends on old Zelinda gaze, Pleased in rich silks and orient gems to blaze: Changes like these 'tis folly to condemn, So virtue yields not, nor is changed with them. Let us proceed: --Twelve brilliant years were past, Yet each with less of glory than the last. Whether these years to this fair virgin gave A softer mind--effect they often have; Whether the virgin-state was not so bless'd As that good maiden in her zeal profess'd; Or whether lovers falling from her train, Gave greater price to those she could retain, Is all unknown;--but Arabella now Was kindly listening to a Merchant's vow, Who offer'd terms so fair, against his love To strive was folly, so she never strove. - Man in his earlier days we often find With a too easy and unguarded mind; But by increasing years and prudence taught, He grows reserved, and locks up every thought: Not thus the maiden, for in blooming youth She hides her thought and guards the tender truth: This, when no longer young, no more she hides, But frankly in the favour'd swain confides: Man, stubborn man, is like the growing tree, That, longer standing, still will harder be; And like its fruit, the virgin, first austere, Then kindly softening with the ripening year. Now was the lover urgent, and the kind And yielding lady to his suit inclined: "A little time, my friend, is just, is right; We must be decent in our neighbours' sight:" Still she allow'd him of his hopes to speak, And in compassion took off week by week; Till few remain'd, when, wearied with delay, She kindly meant to take off day by day. That female Friend who gave our virgin praise For flying man and all his treacherous ways, Now heard with mingled anger, shame, and fear Of one accepted, and a wedding near; But she resolved again with friendly zeal To make the maid her scorn of wedlock feel; For she was grieved to find her work undone, And like a sister mourn'd the failing nun. Why are these gentle maidens prone to make Their sister-doves the tempting world forsake? Why all their triumph when a maid disdains The tyrant sex, aud scorns to wear its chains? Is it pure joy to see a sister flown