 | The Heroine of the Cave |  |
63
EPILOGUE.
SPOKEN BY MISS YOUNGE.
Well, Sirs, and Ladies, whether gay, or grave,
[Looking around.
'Tis better to be here than in the Cave.
Now, that Alberti's safe, within my calling,
With him, 'fore liberty, I'd chuse enthralling;
By day to work, by night to fondly cling:
For a good husband is so good a thing!
No mountain sure so high, no vale so steep,
One wou'd not boldly soar, or lowly creep,
In anxious quest of that dear charming creature,
A man of honour, polish'd sense, good nature!
O, Ladies, Ladies, what enchanting treasure!
May ye be all possest of such—No measure
To your encreasing bliss can e'er be known,
As from experience zealously you'll own;
If on your parts with virtuous emulation,
You've always foremost in chaste contemplation;
To clear the tarnish'd glory of our nation:
That thro' the various ranks of human life,
Woman's first title is a faithful wife.
[Looking around.
'Tis better to be here than in the Cave.
Now, that Alberti's safe, within my calling,
With him, 'fore liberty, I'd chuse enthralling;
By day to work, by night to fondly cling:
For a good husband is so good a thing!
No mountain sure so high, no vale so steep,
One wou'd not boldly soar, or lowly creep,
In anxious quest of that dear charming creature,
A man of honour, polish'd sense, good nature!
O, Ladies, Ladies, what enchanting treasure!
May ye be all possest of such—No measure
To your encreasing bliss can e'er be known,
As from experience zealously you'll own;
If on your parts with virtuous emulation,
You've always foremost in chaste contemplation;
To clear the tarnish'd glory of our nation:
That thro' the various ranks of human life,
Woman's first title is a faithful wife.
Therein is all her fortitude to shine,
With truth heroic, sanctity divine;
That angels with complacence joy to view,
And was the moral sketch our authors drew.
With truth heroic, sanctity divine;
That angels with complacence joy to view,
And was the moral sketch our authors drew.
Tho' we've no ribband for such worth to give,
In Fame's immortal regist'ry you'll live;—
Exalted models of true female merit,
And blooming maids will lineally inherit,
That purest recompence to hearts refin'd
The world's applause, and self approving mind.
In Fame's immortal regist'ry you'll live;—
64
And blooming maids will lineally inherit,
That purest recompence to hearts refin'd
The world's applause, and self approving mind.
Thus far I've dar'd; to trespass more, I wave—
Deem it not forward, I one favour crave—
You'll sometimes think on, Th'Heroine of the Cave.
Deem it not forward, I one favour crave—
You'll sometimes think on, Th'Heroine of the Cave.
| The Heroine of the Cave | |