Mrs. Bindon’s Answer by Mrs. Bindon

When home I return’d from the dancing last night,
And elate by your praises attempted to write,
I familiarly call’d on Apollo for aid,
And told him how many fine things you had said;
He smil’d at my folly, and gave me to know,
Your wit, and not mine, by your writing you shew;
And then, says the God, still to make you more vain,
He hath promis’d that I shall enlighten your brain,
When he knows in his heart, if he speak but his mind,
That no woman alive can now boast I am kind:
For since Daphne to shun me grew into a laurel,
With the sex I have sworn still to keep up the quarrel.
I thought it all joke, ’till by writing to you,
I have prov’d his resentment, alas! but too true.

From: http://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/works/o5156-w0610.shtml

Date: 1763

By: Mrs. Bindon (?-?)

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