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By her first Theft each fiery ill we feel,
And yet compel the gen'rous Fair to steal;
First made by her for soaring actions fit,
Woman! the spring of super-human wit,
Shall we from her each dear bought bliss withhold,
As Spaniards use the Indians for their Gold?
Ungrateful Man! in pride so high to aim,
As to be sole inheritor of shame!
And you, ye Fair! why slumber on disdain,