THE NUNNERY, The LETTER

A Vestal Fair (Her Name I may'nt unfold) Has planted in my Breast the pleasing Dart; Who by relentless Vows, if not controll'd, Wou'd own, perchance, a Sympathy of Heart:

The growing Passion impotent to quell, Severe Discretion urg'd me to retreat; Now at my native rural Home I dwell, Where Contemplation keeps her lonely Seat.

Seek not to draw me from this still Abode, Where the kind Muses to my Aid repair, And when the Thoughts of hapless Love corrode, Check the deep Sigh, and wipe the trickling Tear.