Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice - A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
By flatterers besieged And so obliging that he ne'er obliged.