To beauty’s wiles, in ev’ry class, I’ve bowed;
          Fawned, flattered, sighed, e’en constancy have vowed
          What gained? you ask—­but little I admit;
          Howe’er we aim, too oft we fail to hit. 
          My latter days I’ll now devote with care,
          To guard the sex from ev’ry latent snare. 
          Tales I’ll detail, and these relate at ease: 
          Narrations clear and neat will always please;
          Like me, to this attention criticks pay;
          Then sleep, on either side, from night till day. 
          If awkward, vulgar phrase intervene,
          Or rhymes imperfect o’er the page be seen,
          Condemn at will; but stratagems and art,
          Pass, shut your eyes, who’d heed the idle part? 
          Some mothers, husbands, may perhaps be led,
          To pull my locks for stories white or red;
          So matters stand:  a fine affair, no doubt,
          And what I’ve failed to do—­my book makes out.

          Thefair my pages safely may pursue,
          And this apology they’ll not refuse. 
          What recompense can I presume to make? 
          A tale I’ll give, where female charms partake,
          And prove resistless whatsoe’er assail: 
          Blessed beauty, nature ever should prevail.

          HadFate decreed our youth, at early morn,
          To view the angel features you adorn,
          The captivating pow’rs Aurora bless,
          Or airy Spring bedecked in beauteous dress,
          And all the azure canopy on high
          Had vanished like a dream, once you were nigh. 
          And when his eyes at length your charms beheld,
          His glowing breast with softest passion swelled;
          Superior lustre beamed at ev’ry view;
          No pleasures pleased:  his soul was fixed on you. 
          Crowns, jewels, palaces, appeared as naught. 
          ’Twas solely beauteous woman now he sought.

          A Wood, from earliest years, his home had been,
          And birds the only company he’d seen,
          Whose notes harmonious often lulled his care,
          Beguiled his hours, and saved him from despair;
          Delightful sounds! from nightingale and dove
          Unknown their tongue, yet indicant of love.

          Thissavage, solitary, rustick school,
          The father chose his infancy to rule. 
          The mother’s recent death induced the sire,
          To place the son where only beasts retire;
          And long the forest habitants alone
          Were all his youthful sight had ever known.