Month after month was pass’d, and all were spent
In quiet comfort, and in rich content;
Miseries there were, and woes the world around,
But these had not her pleasant dwelling found;
She knew that mothers grieved, and widows wept,
And she was sorry, said her prayers, and slept: 
Thus passed the seasons, and to Dinah’s board
Gave what the seasons to the rich afford;
For she indulged, nor was her heart so small,
That one strong passion should engross it all. 
   A love of splendour now with av’rice strove,
And oft appeared to be the stronger love: 
A secret pleasure fill’d the Widow’s breast,
When she reflected on the hoards possess’d;
But livelier joy inspired th’ ambitious Maid,
When she the purchase of those hoards display’d: 
In small but splendid room she loved to see
That all was placed in view and harmony. 
There, as with eager glance she look’d around,
She much delight in every object found. 
While books devout were near her—­to destroy,
Should it arise, an overflow of joy. 
   Within that fair apartment guests might see
The comforts cull’d for wealth by vanity: 
Around the room an Indian paper blazed,
With lively tint and figures boldly raised;
Silky and soft upon the floor below,
Th’ elastic carpet rose with crimson glow;
All things around implied both cost and care,
What met the eye was elegant or rare: 
Some curious trifles round the room were laid,
By hope presented to the wealthy Maid;
Within a costly case of varnish’d wood,
In level rows, her polish’d volumes stood;
Shown as a favour to a chosen few,
To prove what beauty for a book could do: 
A silver urn with curious work was fraught;
A silver lamp from Grecian pattern wrought: 
Above her head, all gorgeous to behold,
A time-piece stood on feet of burnish’d gold;
A stag’s-head crest adorn’d the pictured case,
Through the pure crystal shone the enamel’d face;
And while on brilliants moved the hands of steel,
It click’d from pray’r to pray’r, from meal to meal. 
   Here as the lady sat, a friendly pair
Stept in t’admire the view, and took their chair: 
They then related how the young and gay
Were thoughtless wandering in the broad highway: 
How tender damsels sail’d in tilted boats,
And laugh’d with wicked men in scarlet coats;
And how we live in such degen’rate times,
That men conceal their wants and show their crimes;
While vicious deeds are screen’d by fashion’s name,
And what was once our pride is now our shame. 
   Dinah was musing, as her friends discoursed,
When these last words a sudden entrance forced
Upon her mind, and what was once her pride
And now her shame, some painful views supplied;
Thoughts of the past within her bosom press’d,
And there a change was felt, and was confess’d: 
While thus the Virgin strove with secret pain,
Her mind was wandering o’er the troubled main;