To yours, that beauty which subdues the strong.
But as our strength, when misapplied, is lost,
And what should save, urges our ruin most;
Just so, when beauty prostituted lies,
Of b***s the prey, of rakes the abandon’d prize,
Women no more their empire can maintain,
Nor hope, vile slaves of lust, by love to reign;
Superior charms but make their case the worse,
When what was meant their blessing, proves their curse.
O nymph! that might, reclin’d on Cupid’s breast,