[Written in India.]
Ye callous worldlings! ye who cry ‘Gainst Love’s celestial sway,
Who mock at Sensibility,
And turn in scorn away;
Rais’d not for you the lowly strain,
‘Tis sung to Beauty’s ear—
E’en Orpheus’ lyre were tun’d in vain,
Had such as you been near.
Forbear ye Prudes, long mark’d by age,
With wrinkles, spleen, and spite,
To vent on Youth your churlish rage,
Where Love begets delight!
For you, ye frigid, bearded Maids,
The sigh was never heav’d—
Now go and mumble o’er your beads,
Of ev’ry hope bereav’d:
And learn, tho’ in Life’s latter stage,
That tenderness of heart
Is priz’d in ev’ry gen’rous age:
But learn it to your smart,
That had ye felt as others feel,
To whom Love’s pow’r is known,
On earth ye might have found a Heav’n,
Now Hell* is all your own.
*The vestal sisterhood are said to lead Apes in Hell.
From: Caunter, John Hobart, The Cadet; A Poem, in six parts: containing remarks on British India. To which is added, Egbert and Amelia; in four parts: with other poems, 1814, Robert Jennings: London, pp. 167-168.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=odEIAAAAQAAJ)
Date: 1814
By: John Hobart Caunter (1792-1851)
From Troubles of The World 