OF that I doubt, from stories I have heard, And one I’ve ready for you now prepar’d. A TENDER Virgin, by her _Parents_ will, (And virgins must their parents hopes fulfil) Was to a cloyster in her bloom consign’d, (Tho’ she had no such wishes in her mind) To fast and pray, instead of patch and paint, And to be—=God= knows how, a very saint; Join her soft voice unto the organ’s note, And all her thoughts to Heav’n alone must float; The shadowy veil must hide her lovely face, Where joy sat smiling with each charming grace; Knees bent, eyes lifted, hands in order join’d, Must shew her purest sanctity of mind. YET all this discipline was ill bestow’d, Her youthful mind still thought of flesh and blood; And, to conceal it, still she strove in vain; She often in her cell would loud complain How hard the lot insisted to obey, And wish’d some man would steal her soon away; More than her beads she then would him adore, And be contented with the name of =WHORE=. THE Abbess heard her as she pass’d by chance, And fancy’d she had got some vile romance; Knock’d at the cell, and found her daughter there, With not a book—unless a book of pray’r; She wonder’d much, and told the virgin so, Who did not hide the truth, but let her know. Amaz’d the matron lifted up her eyes, And shew’d her horror by her vast surprize. ‘O! shame to all that’s pious and that’s good, ‘What wild-fire’s this which rages in your blood; ‘’Tis, sure, dictated by some imp of Hell! ‘You must be mad!—Pray tell me, Are you well? ‘Your understanding must be gone astray; ‘I’ll call the Doctor to you.—Well-a-day!’ THE Nun persisted that her mind was right, That she was in her perfect senses quite; And =Nature=, in her wishes, still prevail’d. Love fill’d her thoughts—and that was all that ail’d. AGAIN the pious Abbess strove, in vain, Her wicked wants and wishes to explain; Bid her take pattern by her sister =Prue=, Who was to holy exercises true; Who ne’er at morn. or evening pray’r, was found To cast one carnal eye or thought around? But ev’ry sense was calm, each wish was even, And all her joy, and all her hope in Heav’n. THE tender maiden look’d again and sigh’d, And to her mental mother thus reply’d:—