Oh, fair as heaven and chaste as light!

Did nature mould thee all so bright.

That thou shouldst e'er be brought to weep

O'er languid virtue's fatal sleep,

O'er shame extinguished, honor fled,

Peace lost, heart withered, feeling dead?

No, no! a star was born with thee,

Which sheds eternal purity.

Thou hast, within those sainted eyes,

So fair a transcript of the skies,

In lines of light such heavenly lore

That men should read them and adore.

Yet have I known a gentle maid

Whose mind and form were both arrayed

In nature's purest light, like thine;—

Who wore that clear, celestial sign

Which seems to mark the brow that's fair

For destiny's peculiar care;

Whose bosom, too, like Dian's own,

Was guarded by a sacred zone,

Where the bright gem of virtue shone;

Whose eyes had in their light a charm

Against all wrong and guile and harm.

Yet, hapless maid, in one sad hour

These spells have lost their guardian power;

The gem has been beguiled away;

Her eyes have lost their chastening ray;

The modest pride, the guiltless shame,

The smiles that from reflection came,

All, all have fled and left her mind

A faded monument behind;

The ruins of a once pure shrine,

No longer fit for guest divine,

Oh! 'twas a sight I wept to see—

Heaven keep the lost one's fate from thee!