University of Virginia Library

Ye parents, shall those forms so fair,
The graces might be proud to wear,
The charms those speaking eyes display,
Where passion sits in ev'ry ray,
Th' expressive glance, the air refined,
That sweet vivacity of mind,
Be doom'd for life to folly's sway,
By trifles lur'd, to fops a prey?
Say, can ye think that forms so fine
Were made for nothing but to shine,
With lips of rose and cheeks of cherry,
Outgo the works of statuary,
And gain the prize of show, as victors
O'er busts and effigies and pictures?
Can female sense no trophies raise,
Are dress and beauty all their praise,
And does no lover hope to find
An angel in his charmer's mind?
First from the dust our sex began,
But woman was refined from man;
Received again, with softer air,
The great Creator's forming care.
And shall it no attention claim
Their beauteous infant souls to frame?
Shall half your precepts tend the while
Fair nature's lovely work to spoil,
The native innocence deface,
The glowing blush, the modest grace,
On follies fix their young desire,
To trifles bid their souls aspire,
Fill their gay heads with whims of fashion,
And slight all other cultivation,
Let every useless, barren weed
Of foolish fancy run to seed,
And make their minds the receptacle
Of every thing that's false and fickle;
Where gay caprice with wanton air,
And vanity keep constant fair,
Where ribbons, laces, patches, puffs,
Caps, jewels, ruffles, tippets, muffs,
With gaudy whims of vain parade,
Croud each apartment of the head;
Where stands, display'd with costly pains,
The toyshop of coquettish brains,
And high-crown'd caps hang out the sign,
And beaux as customers throng in;
Whence sense is banish'd in disgrace,
Where wisdom dares not show her face;
Where the light head and vacant brain
Spoil all ideas they contain,
As th' air-pump kills in half a minute
Each living thing you put within it?