Mary Barber - To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly.

Mary Barber - To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly.

To Day, as at my Glass I stood, br To set my Head--cloaths, and my Hood; br I saw my grizzled Locks with Dread, br And call'd to mind the Gorgon's Head. br br Thought I, whate'er the Poets say, br Medusa's Hair was only gray: br Tho' Ovid, who the Story told, br Was too well--bred to call her old; br But, what amounted to the same, br He made her an immortal Dame. br br Yet now, whene'er a Matron sage br Hath felt the rugged Hand of Age, br You hear out witty Coxcombs cry, br Rot that old Witch--she'll never die. br Tho', had they but a little Reading, br Ovid would teach them better Breeding. br br I fancy now, I hear you say, br Grant Heav'n, my Locks may ne'er be gray! br Why am I told this frightful Story? br To Beauty a Memento mori. br br And, as along the Room you pass, br Casting your Eye upon the Glass, br Surely, say you, this lovely Face br Will never suffer such Disgrace: br The Bloom, that on my Cheek appears, br Will never be impair'd by Years. br Her Envy, now, I plainly see, br Makes her inscribe those Lines to me. br These Beldams, who were born before me, br Are griev'd to see the Men adore me: br Their snaky Locks freeze up the Blood; br My Tresses fire the purple Flood. br br Unnumber'd Slaves around me wait, br And from my Eyes expect their Fate: br I own, of Conquest I am vain, br Tho' I despise the Slaves I gain. br Heav'n gave me Charms, and destin'd me br For universal Tyranny.


User: PoemHunter.com

Views: 1

Uploaded: 2014-11-10

Duration: 01:58

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