Classic Poem

If any punishment or curse
Had made thee thy false oath bewail;
Hadst thou but been one tooth the worse,
Or lost a single nail;
I shou'd have kept my faith, — but thou
Shin'st out more tempting and more fair;
And art, by breaking of thy vow,
Our youth's peculiar care.
'Tis profit, therefore, to deceive
Thy mother's ashes in a breath,
Stars, moon, and silent heav'n to grieve,
And Gods, exempt from death.
Yes, Venus laughs, and nymphs, well known
For mock-simplicity, deride,
And love still whetting on a stone
His darts in crimson dy'd.
But add to this, new dupes abound,
New slaves, nor will the old relent,
Tho' sworn to quit her impious pound,
Where their fond hearts are pent.
At thee the jealous mothers pine,
At thee old churls, and maids new wed,
Lest by that winning air of thine
Their spouses be misled.