Cut off in life’s full bloom, now low she lies,
The loose loves weeping o’er her early bier,
Nor Virtue’s self denies a tender tear;
So young a creature, wonder not she fell,
And left the paths of chastity severe,
Debauched by a court where lust did dwell
Like treach’rous Circe, skill’d in many a witching spell.
VI.
Ah! where are now her gorgeous robes of state,
The glitt’ring gems that did her fairness deck?