Not thus succeeds the peerless dame,
Who looks and talks and acts for fame;
Intent, so wide her cares extend,
To make the universe her friend.
Now with the gay in frolics shines,
Now reasons deep with deep divines.
With courtiers now extols the great,
With patriots sighs o'er Britain's fate.
Now breathes with zealots holy fires,
Now melts in less refined desires.
Doom'd to exceed in each degree,
Too wise, too weak, too proud, too free;
Too various for one single word,
The high sublime of deep absurd.
While every talent nature grants
Just serves to show how much she wants.
The virtues of our sex and thine :
Her hand restrains the widow's tears,
Her sense informs and soothes and cheers;
Yet like an angel in disguise,
She shines but to some favour'd eyes;
Nor is the distant herd allow'd
To view the radiance through the cloud.
But thine is every winning art,
Thine is the friendly honest heart;
And should the generous spirit flow
Beyond where prudence fears to go,
Such sallies are of nobler kind
Than virtues of a narrow mind.