A Modest Woman, Dressed Out In All

Persecution Is A Tribute The Great Must Always Pay For Preeminence.

As Some Tall Cliff That Lifts Its Awful Form, Swells From The Vale, And Midway Leaves The Storm,- Though Round Its Breast The Rolling Clouds Are Spread, Eternal Sunshine Settles On Its Head.

They Say Women And Music Should Never Be Dated.

Good People All, With One Accord, Lament For Madam Blaize, Who Never Wanted A Good Word From Those Who Spoke Her Praise.

But Times Are Alter'd; Trade's Unfeeling Train Usurp The Land, And Dispossess The Swain; Along The Lawn, Where Scatter'd Hamlets Rose, Unwieldy Wealth And Cumbrous Pomp Repose.