TO
MIRANDA
,
ON
HER
DETERMINING
TO
ASSUME
THE
VEIL
.
WHY
quits
Miranda
thus
life's
busy
scene
?
Why
seeks
she
now
the
Convent's
gloom
serene
?
Can
,
then
,
this
giddy
world
no
pleasure
give
,
That
here
the
fair
Miranda
scorns
to
live
?
Why
,
pensive
maid
,
to
routs
,
to
lively
balls
,
Prefer
the
gloomy
Convent's
hallow'd
walls
?
Ah
,
stay
!
and
let
mankind
adore
these
charms
,
That
ought
to
bless
some
favour'd
lover's
arms
:
Yet
,
stop
!
methinks
I
hear
Miranda
say
(
Whilst
now
she
smiling
reads
my
uncouth
lay
)
,
"
Though
vulgar
souls
may
wonder
at
my
choice
,
May
dare
to
censure
with
a
common
voice
;
Yet
I'm
resolv'd
,
since
in
those
shades
no
fools
Are
led
by
Fashion's
or
by
Folly's
rules
.
'Tis
only
in
the
dear
sequester'd
cell
Where
peace
is
found
,
and
where
the
virtues
dwell
;
Contented
there
my
future
days
I'll
spend
,
There
taught
,
in
hope
and
triumph
meet
my
end
:
Then
in
some
time-worn
Cloister's
hallow'd
gloom
The
sister
Nuns
will
rear
Miranda's
tomb
;
Whilst
some
pale
trembling
lamp
shall
ever
burn
,
To
mark
the
spot
where
rests
my
mould'ring
urn
.
"
Thus
speaks
in
accents
soft
the
pensive
maid
,
Who
to
the
blaze
of
day
prefers
the
shade
,
Who
wisely
shuns
what
Folly
pleasure
calls
,
And
flies
for
refuge
to
a
Convent's
walls
.
Reluctant
,
I
must
own
'tis
Nature's
voice
,
That
calls
Miranda
to
so
sad
a
choice
:
For
,
oft
at
eve
I
've
seen
the
pensive
maid
Reclin'd
beneath
the
yew-tree's
mournful
shade
,
Hanging
enraptur'd
o'er
some
moving
tale
,
Whilst
pleas'd
she
heard
the
plaintive
warbler's
wail
.
If
then
,
Miranda
,
you
the
Veil
assume
;
If
you
will
seek
the
Convent's
mournful
gloom
;
And
the
sad
tale
no
abler
Bard
inspire
,
Be
mine
the
task
to
tune
the
plaintive
lyre
,
If
verse
like
mine
eternal
fame
could
give
,
Thy
name
,
Miranda
,
should
for
ever
live
.