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To Urania,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


88

To Urania,

with the foregoing Verses.

You see the joy it is to wed,
When beauteous Nymphs discreetly chuse;
Each in her turn is brought to bed;
The Lady first, and then the Muse.
Yet on the Writer, and his Theme,
A diff'rent doom, alas! is past;
The Song shall vanish like a Dream,
The Mother and her Offspring last.
But, waken'd by Urania's cries,
The fruits of Hymen to rehearse,
A far superior Muse shall rise,
And to the Goddess suit the Verse.
Then tell us whence, Divinely Fair,
You seem to shun the Marriage-chain?
Why end you not the public care?
And pity One for Thousands slain?
Old Lovers you with justice hate,
So well agree your Heart and Tongue;
Wed then in time, or you may wait
Till Prudence bids you fear the Young.
Think on the Month that bears your name,
Stripp'd of its Sweets so like your own;
The fate of yours may be the same,
If still withheld, when fully blown.