The yielding females felt an equal flame,
To taste love’s joys when near this wood they came;
Nor justice fac’d, nor e’er a penance stood,
The offspring still was call’d by name of wood.
A wood so much renown’d, you may be sure
The Bank of England was’nt thought more secure.
The miser here, his interest found so good,
He quite forgot that wood was only wood!
How fleeting are the joys of all this world,
How soon our hopes are all to Chaos hurl’d: