Did I my Lines intend for publick view

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Did I, my Lines intend for publick view,
How many Censures, wou'd their Faults pursue,
Some wou'd, because such words they doe affect,
Cry their [sic] insipid, empty, uncorrect;
And many, haue attain'd, dull and untaught
The name of witt, only by finding fault.
True judges, might condemn their want of witt,
And all might say, they're by a Woman writt.
Alas! a woman that attempts the pen,
Such an intruder on the rights of men,
Such a presumptuous Creature, is esteem'd,
The fault, can by no virtue be redeem'd.
They tell us, we mistake our sex, and way;
Good breeding, fashion, dancing, dressing, play
Are the Accomplishments we shou'd desire;
To read, or write, or think, or to enquire
Wou'd cloud our beauty, and exhaust our time;
And interrupt the Conquests of our prime;
Whilst, the dull manage, of a Servile house
Is held by some, our outmost art, and use.
Sure 'twas not ever thus, nor are wee told
Fables of women, that excell'd of old;
To whom, by the diffusive hand of Heaven
Some share of witt, and poetry was given.
On that glad day, on which the Ark return'd,
The holy pledge, for which the Land had mourn'd,
The joyfull Tribes, attend it on the way,
The Levites doe the sacred Charge convey,
Whilst various Instruments, before itt play;
Here, holy Virgins in the Concert joyn,
The Louder notes, to soften, and refine,
And with alternate verse, Compleate the Hymn Devine.
Loe! the Young Poet, after God's own heart,
By Him inspir'd, and taught the Muses Art,
Return'd from Conquest, a bright Chorus meets,
That sing his slayn ten Thousand in the Streets.
In such Loud numbers they his Acts declare,
Proclaime the wonders, of his early war,
That Saul, upon the vast applause does frown,
And feels, its mighty Thunder shake the Crown.
What, can the threat'n'd Judgment now prolong?
Half of the Kingdom is already gone;
The fairest half, whose influence guides the rest,
Haue David's Empire, o're their hearts confess't.
A Woman here, leads fainting Israel on,
She fights, she wins, she Triumphs with a Song,
Devout, Majestick, for the Subject Fitt,
And far aboue her Armes, exalts her witt,
Then, to the peacefull, shady Palme withdraws,
And Rules the rescu'd Nation with her Laws.
How are we fal'n, fal'n by mistaken Rules?
And Education's, more than Nature's fools,
Debarr'd from all improve-ments of the minde,
And to be dull, expected and design'd;
And if some one, wou'd Soar above the rest,
With warmer fancy, and ambition press't,
So Strong, th' opposing faction still appears,
The hopes to thrive, can ne're outweigh the fears,
Be caution'd then my Muse, and still retir'd;
Nor be dispis'd, aiming to be admir'd;
Conscious of wants, still with contracted wing,
To some few Freinds, and to thy Sorrows Sing;
For Groves of Lawrell, thou wert neuer meant;>
Be dark enough thy shades, and be thou there content.

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