Dorothea Du Bois

A Scholar first my Love implor’d, And then an empty, titled Lord; The Pedant talk’d in lofty Strains; Alas! his Lordship wanted Brains: I list’ned not, to one or t’other, But straight referr’d them to my Mother. A Poet next my Love assail’d, A Lawyer hop’d to have prevail’d; The Bard too much approv’d himself, The Lawyer thirsted after Pelf: I list’ned not, to one or t’other, But still referr’d them to my Mother. An Officer my Heart wou’d storm, A Miser, sought me too, in Form; But Mars was over-free and bold, The miser’s Heart was in his Gold: I list’ned not, to one or t’other, Referring still unto my Mother. And after them, some twenty more, Successless were, as those before; When Damon , lovely Damon came! Our Hearts strait felt a mutual Flame; I vow’d I’d have him, and no other, Without referring, to my Mother.