Classic Poem

Sylvia , as you descend from line to line,
I know your judgment will concur with mine.
Should passion with your better thoughts contend,
In Reason's empire I've insur'd a friend.
While I attempt, tho' in a feeble strain,
My sex's brightest ornament t' explain.
It centers not in yon' unthinking lass,
Who murders half her moments at the glass;
That well drest cap, or better frizzled head,
With richest pearls and tow'ring plumes o'erspread,
That lovely easy shape, or graceful air,
Which at the ball eclipses all the Fair;
That Angel's face, whose beauteous hues disclose,
The snowy lilly, or the blushing rose;
With iv'ry teeth, or more bewitching eyes,
Before whose lustre ev'ry brilliant dies;
With voice harmonious, or enchanting tongue,
With pointed wit, or elocution hung;
With these, O Sylvia! you may be replete,
Yet want the pearl which makes you truly great.

But can you boast of wealth and store of gold?
In you, some sordid minds the gem behold;
Possest of this, you'll meet each swain's respect,
It strangely turns to beauty each defect,
Makes prudence, virtue, sense, and merit flow,
From ground where folly, vice, and malice grow.
But one esteem'd the wisest of the wise,
Beheld our sex's worth with other eyes,
And her pronounces, of the pearl possest,
Who's with a meek and quiet spirit blest,
Whose soul retains sound judgment, solid sense,
And virtue, with religion's noble fence;
An humble, generous, free, exalted mind,
From all the grosser sentiments refin'd;
An heart sincere, sedate,—not apt to roam,
A mind domestic, ever best at home.
Be this my lot, my noble portion this,
And lo! I ask for no superior bliss.