Classic Poem

Did you, to save poor Sally 's Beauty strive?
Have you destroy'd what might be still alive?
Where was a tender Mother's Fondness flown,
Or who'd inflict Job 's Torment on their own?
Who wou'd presume to tempt the Lord on High,
Or his divine Authority defy?
Audacious Mortals, see! how soon He can
Undo and frustrate the Attempts of Man.
Sweet Sally thanks thee, for thy unskill'd Pains;
Your's still be the Affliction, her's the Gains.
She, like a Rose misplac'd by Nature, sprung
From a coarse Bramble, on a heap of Dung;
But to her kindred Heaven, she is gone,
Have you her Equal with you? no not one.

Sally indeed, was lovely and discreet,
Mild in her temper, in her Nature sweet;
Innocently gay, civil yet sincere,
For Sally was, in short, above her Sphere.
Ah! was it then the mere Effect of Pride?
And strove ye just to save a fair Outside?
Was not a Soul in such bright Robes array'd
Sufficiently attractive in the Maid?
Who wou'd the Mind's superior Beauties place
In Competition with a pretty Face?
And yet, where is the wise Mamma, or wiser Father,
Who if they had the Choice, wou'd not much rather
Have their sweet darling Babe a perfect Beauty,
Than just remark'd for Piety and Duty?
The Sight attracted, quickly gains the Heart,
While Sense, but slowly does her Charms impart
But, Thanks to Heav'n! who has given me
Sufficient Sense, to wait its wise Decree;
No Vanity of mine, shall make me dare
With its high Judgment e'er to interfere.
But to my lov'd Creator, I will still
Submit each Dictate of his Servant's Will.