And soon he baffles all her Care,
In vain she tries her Pain to smother,
The Nymph too frail, the Nymph too frail, becomes a Mother.
But no, these little Follies o’er,
She firmly vows she’ll sin no more;
No more to Vice will fall a Prey,
But spend in Prayer each fleeting Day.
Close in her Cell immur’d she lies,
Nor from the Cross removes her Eyes;
Whilst Sisters crouding at the Crate,