 | Divine poems |  |
[Her House is the (next) way to Hell]
Her House is the way to Hell, leading down to the Chambers of Death,
Prov. 7. 27.
Her House is the (next) way to Hell,
Satan's Strong-Hold: the Furies Cell.
There's Venom in her Sweetest Breath:
Her Tempting Hair's the Snare of Death.
The Flaming Beauty of Her Eyes
Is but the Devil's Sacrifice.
Her looks are Gaudy, but not Fine:
Her Clearest Beauties Blaze, not Shine.
O go not after her! Refrain
From seeking that whose Loss is Gain.
Vain Joyes, like Shades, Fly, when Embrac'd:
Such Paint, when Toucht, is straight Defac'd.
Such Sweets of Love let me Decline,
They are but Poyson Drunk in Wine.
Lusts sparkling Flame, to Wild-Fire turns;
Such Boistrous Heat warms not, but Burns.
Beware the Siren when She Sings:
Bees full of Honey have their Stings.
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