The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse (1735-1820): Edited by the Rev. R. I. Woodhouse |
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CHAPTER 2nd.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse |  |
Blind Appetite and Passion, unrestrain'd,
Oft bound o'er needful barriers, Heav'n ordain'd,
Spurning each pure restraint and social tie,
To compass objects offering ready joy;
Each pious obstacle's trod down, or skipt,
When spurr'd by Pride—by weak Ambition whipt.
Oft bound o'er needful barriers, Heav'n ordain'd,
Spurning each pure restraint and social tie,
To compass objects offering ready joy;
Each pious obstacle's trod down, or skipt,
When spurr'd by Pride—by weak Ambition whipt.
He, deeming Heav'n's original decree
Left neither perfect Male, or Female, free,
Judg'd it but just, on that bless'd mandate built,
All deviation grows to dangerous guilt;
And, humbly honouring such sublime behest,
Resolv'd—and left with righteous Heav'n the rest;
Believing all who wisht what Heav'n had will'd,
Would prove each promise faithfully fulfill'd.
Left neither perfect Male, or Female, free,
Judg'd it but just, on that bless'd mandate built,
All deviation grows to dangerous guilt;
And, humbly honouring such sublime behest,
Resolv'd—and left with righteous Heav'n the rest;
Believing all who wisht what Heav'n had will'd,
Would prove each promise faithfully fulfill'd.
But having suffer'd much from false Coquette,
The trammell'd captive of her artful net;
A prison'd slave, without the curse of crime,
Thro' ample period of his youthful prime—
Where love of liberty had struggled long,
With Circe's philtres and frail Syren's song—
Loathing all graceless Flattery's faithless treats;
Empoison'd potions mix'd with mawkish sweets!
Pall'd with weak pleasures, hollow Hope's awards!
Ensnaring smiles—false vows—and feign'd regards!
Determin'd, now, no longer to submit
To treacherous beauty, and all worthless wit;
To sham endearment, or coquettish scoff,
But break his yoke, and tear his fetters off—
Yet, not relinquishing the Lover's name,
A foe to female charms, and Cupid's claim—
Nor, like the Moth, with ever-devious flight,
To sip each honey'd flow'r, with frail delight;
But fully fix'd, with virtuous views, to try
What wedded Love with plighted troth supply;
He wished in faithful Wife a Friend to find,
With pious Truth and genuine Morals join'd;
For Heav'n had made this added maxim known,
“It is not good for Man to be alone.”
The trammell'd captive of her artful net;
A prison'd slave, without the curse of crime,
Thro' ample period of his youthful prime—
Where love of liberty had struggled long,
With Circe's philtres and frail Syren's song—
Loathing all graceless Flattery's faithless treats;
Empoison'd potions mix'd with mawkish sweets!
Pall'd with weak pleasures, hollow Hope's awards!
Ensnaring smiles—false vows—and feign'd regards!
Determin'd, now, no longer to submit
To treacherous beauty, and all worthless wit;
To sham endearment, or coquettish scoff,
But break his yoke, and tear his fetters off—
Yet, not relinquishing the Lover's name,
A foe to female charms, and Cupid's claim—
Nor, like the Moth, with ever-devious flight,
To sip each honey'd flow'r, with frail delight;
But fully fix'd, with virtuous views, to try
What wedded Love with plighted troth supply;
He wished in faithful Wife a Friend to find,
With pious Truth and genuine Morals join'd;
For Heav'n had made this added maxim known,
“It is not good for Man to be alone.”
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CHAPTER 2nd.
The Life and Poetical Works of James Woodhouse | |