The Paths of Pleasure lead but to the Tomb.
Forgive, Ye fair, whom Britain’s Sons admire,
If This her meanest Bard incur your Blame,
While He devotes not to your Praise the Lyre,
But to the convent dedicates his Theme.
Can These partake the sprightly-moving Dance?
Or in the Garb of Luxury appear?
Can These e’er pierce the Lover with a Glance?
Or grace the Tragic scene with Pity’s Tear?
Perhaps in this drear Mansion are confin’d