Classic Poem

Woman! the fairest sweetest Flow'r
That in happy Eden grew,
Whose sweets and graces had the pow'r
The World's sole Monarch to subdue,
What pity 'tis thou wert not true.
But there, even there, thy frailty brought in sin,
Sin that has cost so many Sighs and tears,
Enough to ruin all succeeding Heirs,
To Beauties Temple let the Devil in.
And though (because there was no more)
It in one single story did begin;
Yet from the Seeds shed from that fruitful Core,
Have sprung up Volumes infinite, and great,
With which th' ore charged world doth sweat,
Of women false, proud, cruel, insolent;
And what could else befall,
Since she her self was President
Who was the Mother of them all;
And who, altho' Mankind indeed was scant,
To shew her malice, rather than her want,
Would make a loathsom Serpent her Gallant.