Catherine Cockburn

Ah, gaze not on those eyes! forbear That soft enchanting voice to hear: Not looks of basilisks give surer death, Nor Syrens sing with more destructive breath. Fly, if thy freedom thou’dst maintain, Alas! I feel th’advice is vain! A heart, whose safety but in flight does lie, Is too far lost to have the power to fly.

Soft kisses may be innocent; But ah! too easy maid, beware; Tho’ that is all thy kindness meant, ’Tis love’s delusive, fatal snare. No virgin e’er at first design’d Thro’ all the maze of love to stray; But each new path allures her mind, Till wandering on, she lose her way. ’Tis easy ere set out to stay; But who the useful art can teach, When sliding down a steepy way, To stop, before the end we reach? Keep ever something in thy power, Beyond what would thy honour stain: He will not dare to aim at more, Who for small favours sighs in vain.