Tixall Poetry.
229
This byas made that injuring blow be given,
That thy Arcasia had prophan'd gainst heaven.
But why this furious hurricane did rise
Where by detracting zeale I'm made a sacrifice,
I cannot reach; for sure a woman's pen
Is not (like comets,) ominous to men:
Nor could my clouded braine, (wrapt up in night,)
Destroy in all my sex their sunshine light:
The basalisk's poison lys not in my head,
To strike the wits of other women dead,
If my dull ignorance could blast them all,
Then should I justly as their victim fall.
That thy Arcasia had prophan'd gainst heaven.
But why this furious hurricane did rise
Where by detracting zeale I'm made a sacrifice,
I cannot reach; for sure a woman's pen
Is not (like comets,) ominous to men:
Nor could my clouded braine, (wrapt up in night,)
Destroy in all my sex their sunshine light:
The basalisk's poison lys not in my head,
To strike the wits of other women dead,
If my dull ignorance could blast them all,
Then should I justly as their victim fall.
