A female mind like a rude fallow lies;
No seed is sown, but weeds spontaneous rise.
As well might we expect, in winter, spring,
As land untilled a fruitful crop should bring;
As well might we expect Peruvian ore
We should possess, yet dig not for the store:
Culture improves all fruits, all sorts we find,
Wit, judgement, sense—fruits of the human mind.
Ask the rich merchant, conversant in trade,
How nature operates in the growing blade;
Ask the philosopher the price of stocks,
Ask the gay courtier how to manage flocks;
Inquire the dogmas of the learned schools
(From Aristotle down to Newton's rules)
Of the rough soldier, bred to boisterous war,
Or one still rougher, a true British tar:
They'll all reply, unpractised in such laws,
Th' effect they know, though ignorant of the cause.
The sailor may perhaps have equal parts
With him bred up to sciences and arts;
And he who at the helm or stern is seen
Philosopher or hero might have been.
The whole in application is comprised,
Reason's not reason, if not exercised;
Use, not possession, real good affords;
No miser's rich that dares not touch his hoards.
Can female youth, left to weak woman's care,
Misled by Custom (Folly's fruitful heir);
Told that their charms a monarch may enslave,
That beauty like the gods can kill or save;
Taught the arcanas, the mysterious arts,
By ambush dress to catch unwary hearts;
If wealthy born, taught to lisp French and dance,
Their morals left (Lucretius-like) to chance;
Strangers to reason and reflection made,
Left to their passions, and by them betrayed;
Untaught the noble end of glorious truth,
Bred to deceive even from their earliest youth;
Unused to books, nor virtue taught to prize;
Whose mind, a savage waste, unpeopled lies;
Which to supply, trifles fill up the void,
And idly busy, to no end employed:
Can these, from such a school, more virtue show,
Or tempting vice treat like a common foe?
Can they resist, when soothing pleasure woos;
Preserve their virtue, when their fame they lose?
Can they on other themes converse or write
Than what they hear all day, and dream all night? …
Would you, who can instruct as well as please,
Bestow some moments of your darling ease
To rescue woman from this Gothic state,
New passions raise, their minds anew create:
Then for the Spartan virtue we might hope,
For who stands unconvinced by generous Pope?
Then would the British fair perpetual bloom,
And vie in fame with ancient Greece and Rome.
No seed is sown, but weeds spontaneous rise.
As well might we expect, in winter, spring,
As land untilled a fruitful crop should bring;
As well might we expect Peruvian ore
We should possess, yet dig not for the store:
Culture improves all fruits, all sorts we find,
Wit, judgement, sense—fruits of the human mind.
Ask the rich merchant, conversant in trade,
How nature operates in the growing blade;
Ask the philosopher the price of stocks,
Ask the gay courtier how to manage flocks;
Inquire the dogmas of the learned schools
(From Aristotle down to Newton's rules)
Of the rough soldier, bred to boisterous war,
Or one still rougher, a true British tar:
They'll all reply, unpractised in such laws,
Th' effect they know, though ignorant of the cause.
The sailor may perhaps have equal parts
With him bred up to sciences and arts;
And he who at the helm or stern is seen
Philosopher or hero might have been.
The whole in application is comprised,
Reason's not reason, if not exercised;
Use, not possession, real good affords;
No miser's rich that dares not touch his hoards.
Can female youth, left to weak woman's care,
Misled by Custom (Folly's fruitful heir);
Told that their charms a monarch may enslave,
That beauty like the gods can kill or save;
Taught the arcanas, the mysterious arts,
By ambush dress to catch unwary hearts;
If wealthy born, taught to lisp French and dance,
Their morals left (Lucretius-like) to chance;
Strangers to reason and reflection made,
Left to their passions, and by them betrayed;
Untaught the noble end of glorious truth,
Bred to deceive even from their earliest youth;
Unused to books, nor virtue taught to prize;
Whose mind, a savage waste, unpeopled lies;
Which to supply, trifles fill up the void,
And idly busy, to no end employed:
Can these, from such a school, more virtue show,
Or tempting vice treat like a common foe?
Can they resist, when soothing pleasure woos;
Preserve their virtue, when their fame they lose?
Can they on other themes converse or write
Than what they hear all day, and dream all night? …
Would you, who can instruct as well as please,
Bestow some moments of your darling ease
To rescue woman from this Gothic state,
New passions raise, their minds anew create:
Then for the Spartan virtue we might hope,
For who stands unconvinced by generous Pope?
Then would the British fair perpetual bloom,
And vie in fame with ancient Greece and Rome.