University of Virginia Library

When ancient Greece was for her Arts renown'd,
Was for her Learning and her Honour crown'd;
The Men alone did not the Glory share,
The Muses had their Female Votaries there.
Some Women all the Depths of Knowledge trac'd,
And were with ev'ry Science, ev'ry Virtue grac'd,
Their Understanding, like a Light Divine,
Did thro' their Lives with pleasing Splendor shine.
From thence the Roman Emulation grew,
Some Ladies there did the bright Tract pursue,
Made great Advances in the Paths of Fame,
And, rich in Learning, to her Temple came.
There a Cornelia did her Father grace,
The worthy Daughter of a Conqu'ring Race:
Not he more Glory cou'd from Carthage bring,
Than from her Pen, and from her Tongue did spring.

In other Countries we have Trophies rais'd;
The wise Zenobia can't enough be prais'd;
She famous, as her August Tadmor, grew,
Almost as much as its first Founder knew.
No guilty Passion e're her Glory stain'd,
She still with Justice and with Mildness reign'd,
And when inslav'd, she never once complain'd.
Still was the same in each Extreme of Fate,
Humble when high, and when depress'd sedate.
In latter Times a great Example's found,
A Cottage-Virtue for her Merit crown'd;
An Athenais, by her Learning led
To the bright Honours of a Royal Bed!
Admir'd, tho' poor, both for her Mind and Face,
In both you might surprizing Beauties trace:
But 'twas the First wise Theodosius gain'd,
Such Charms he lik'd, as still the same remain'd,
Which neither Age, nor Sickness, cou'd remove,
Which still would shine, still would attract his Love.
Italian Shores with Female Praise resound,
Amalasuntha there was suff'ring found;
A Lady blest by Nature and by Art:
She'd all the Treasures Knowledge could impart,
A Mind well furnish'd, and gen'rous Heart.
But these, alas! could not a Husband move,
Could not perswade his barbarous Soul to love.
Her shining Qualities glar'd much too bright,
They shew'd those Vices he had hid in Night.
Provok'd, and blushing at the shameful View,
He at the guiltless Cause invenom'd Arrows threw.
Love fled, affrighted, from his Savage Breast,
A Place too cruel for so kind a Guest.
The gentle God to Paphian Shrines retir'd,
And there his Goddess Mother's Aid requir'd:
They join'd their Skill, their utmost Pow'r they try'd;
But he both them, and all their Arts defy'd,
Stood unconcern'd while his fair Princess dy'd,
By him destroy'd, who shou'd have sav'd her Life;
O Wretch! unworthy of so good a Wife:
Inhuman Prince, her Charms had Tygers mov'd,
She'd been for them, by fiercest Lions lov'd;
Thro' wildest Desarts might have safely stray'd,
And there been by the bestial World obey'd,
By none, but treacherous Man, have ever been betray'd.
Virtue's no Shield, it rather does expose;
The Bad are still the Good's inveterate Foes.
Merit in them does always Envy raise,
They hate the Persons they are forc'd to praise.