The FALL of LUCIA. LUCIA was fair and bright as rising Day, Sweet as Arabia, or the Buds of May; Fresh as the Winds that sweep the dewy Hills, Or Beds of Roses wash'd by healthy Rills: Whose Soul was softer than a trembling Dove, Nor knew a Failing till she learn'd to love. Nor Fraud nor Scandal to her Lips were known, And thought each Bosom guiltless as her own. Thus only arm'd with Innocence and Smiles, She fell the Victim of a Tyrant's Wiles. So lost from Shepherd and its mourning Dam, Through some lone Desart roves a stragg'ling Lamb; No Danger fears, but as he idly strays Round ev'ry Bush the heedless Wanton plays; Till raging Wolves the beauteous Toy surround, Or foaming Tigers rend the mossy Ground: Then from his Heart the guiltless Purple flows, A grateful Morsel to his hungry Foes: Thus wrap'd in Sorrows wretched Lucia lies, Whose Sighs still answer to her streaming Eyes. And Damon still — Ah! faithless Damon cries, No more those Lips like dewy Roses glow; Her weary Lids no peaceful Slumbers know: But left to strike her pensive Breast in vain, And curse the Author of her lasting Pain. Her Soul of Ease has took its long Adieu: Hear this, ye Nymphs; but hear and tremble too, Ye Fair that lanch in Pleasure's tempting Sea, Though Fortune crowns you with a calmer Day, And Joy's soft Gale salutes your nimble Oar: Where Lucia's Fame was shipwreck'd on the Shore, Yet let Reflexion mark your gliding Days, Nor drink too deeply in the Draught of Praise: For Flatt'ry is — "So say the learned Schools, "The Bane of Virgins and the Bait of Fools. " How happy she whose purer Spirit knows, No Thought less harmless than a Saint's Repose, Whose guiltless Charms pursue no greater End, But to rejoice a Parent or a Friend: Whose Care it is her Passions to control, And keep the Steerage of a quiet Soul: Then this shall grace her monumental Page, "In Youth admir'd, and belov'd in Age. "