Lovely in joy but grander yet when rage
O’erflows the dams that reason interposed,
The barriers past, themselves must, loath, engage
And swell the tumult they’d have fain opposed;
There, once enlisted, shows the scene so fair,
Such modulation of impetuous wrath,
That what was scorn’d, now claims their tenderest care,
And arm’d in conscious worth they sally forth.
Aye, ever did thy just soul scorn the wrong,
’Twas only virtue lured thee thus astray;
How oft to goodness did’st thou wile the strong,
By young enticement’s headstrong, winning way,
Till all of theirs was thine, and thou could’st pour
At love’s high altar gifts of virgin ore.