Classic Poem

Where shall Caelia fly for shelter,
In what secret grove or cave?
Sighs and sonnets sent to melt her
From the young, the gay, the brave.
Tho' with prudish airs she starch her,
Still she longs, and still she burns;
Cupid shoots like H AYMAN 's archer,
Wheresoe'er the damsel turns.

Virtue, wit, good sense, and beauty,
If discretion guide us not,
Sometimes are the ruffian's booty,
Sometimes are the booby's lot:
Now they're purchas'd by the trader,
Now commanded by the peer;
Now some subtle mean invader
Wins the heart, or gains the ear.

O discretion, thou'rt a jewel,
Or our grand-mammas mistake;
Stinting flame by bating fewel,
Always careful and awake!
Wou'd you keep your pearls from tramplers,
Weigh the licence, weigh the banns:
Mark my song upon your samplers,
Wear it on your knots and fans.