by John Corry
Pause, pause, thou libertine, and lay
Thy hand upon thy bounding heart,
And ask thy soul, if to betray
The virgin is a manly part?
Alas! 'tis here the error lies -
'Tis gallantry to rob the maid
Of her fair fame, and tyrannize
O'er the fond heart by love betrayed.
Mistaken Man! the honor prize
Of Woman, nor her peace destroy;
'Tis her meek smile that best supplies
The sweetest zest of social joy.
Reject the enticements of Desire,
Ye lovely maids, with cautious mind;
Nor yield to that destructive fire
That leaves a ruined fame behind.
Last updated November 29, 2022