Sometimes the guilty are set free,
And wears no more the chains;
Yet tho’ he gains his liberty,
The stain on him remains.
Tho’ rich the female that portray,
A wanton’s smile to view;
Or cast her husband’s love away,
Bid chastity adieu.
It is the duty of a wife,
Whene’er the ring she gain;
To lead a virtuous steady life,
From wanton acts refrain.
Calista oft you did retire,
To an appointed place;
To hold a converse with the squire,
It brought on you disgrace.
A Dierge to
the memory of
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.
Britons wept when they heard brave Nelson was wounded,
Cried aloud when they knew that a ball pierced his heart;
Yet it eas’d our distress to find him surrounded,
By those friends he loved, when compell’d to depart.
He requested to know the fate of the battle,
If t’was likely that England would conquor that day;
When they answer’d him Sir, by the weight of our metal,
More colours are struck and the reat in dismay.
Now Britons again feel a painful sensation,
For the loss of a Princess, beloved by us all;
There ne’er was a Lady fill’d better her station;
Yet Grim Death with his mandate alike strikes the ball.
Neither Princes, or Kings, can induce him to tarry,
Away from the object he’s order’d to strike;
To the aged, or young, to the giddy, or merry.
He darts out his arrows and wounds them alike.
Scarce had Providence made our lov’d Princess a mother,
When God thought it fit to call her above,
To taste of those joys rolling time cannot smother,
And share of those blessings that flows from his love,