The DISTRESSED DAMSEL. BALLAD VII

Of all my experience how vast the amount, Since fifteen long winters I fairly can count! Was ever a damsel so sadly betray'd, To live to these years and yet still be a maid?

Ye heroes triumphant, by land and by sea, Sworn vott'ries to love, but undmindful of me; You can strom a strong fort, or can form a blockade, Yet ye stand by, like dastards, and see me a maid.

Ye lawyers so just, who with slippery tongue, Can do what you please, or with right, or with wrong, Can it be, or by law or by equity said, That a buxom young girl ought to die an old maid?

Ye learned physicians, whose excellent skill Can save, or demolish, can cure, or can kill, To a poor, forlorn damsel contribute your aid, Who is sick—very sick—of remaining a maid.

Ye fops, I invoke, not to list to my song, Who answer no end—and to no sex belong; Ye echoes of echoes, and shadows of shade— For if I had you—I might still be a maid.