Virgins fair, and pure as fair.
Quit St. Ives and all her treasures,
Fly her soft voluptuous pleasures,
Fly her sons and all the wiles
Lurking in their wanton smiles;
Fly her splendid midnight halls,
Fly the revels of her balls,
Fly, oh! fly, the chosen seat
Where vanity and fashion meet!
Thither hasten: form the ring,