That bliss is past, and nought for me remains
But dire reproach, and sharp unpitied pains:
For (Death to me, and food to others pride)
My sister has my growing shame descry’d,
Ev’n she assails me with opprobious name,
When the prude’s conscious she deserves the same
Her loose associates, sated, from her flies,
And vainly to seduce my virtue tries:
True, as a wife, I only want the name;
O! haste and wed me, and preserve my fame.