Tixall Poetry/To My Most Honord Cosen, Mrs Somerset, on the Unjust Censure Past upon My Poore Marcelia

by unknown author

To My Most Honord Cosen,

Mrs Somerset,

on the Unjust Censure Past upon My Poore Marcelia.

 

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Sigh not, Parthenia, that I'me doom'd to dye,
Since a false scandal's made the reason why.
Fortune I ever found my rigid foe,
And did not hope she now would milder grow.
A small weake barke by a rough tempest tost,
Can raise noe wonder when we heare 'tis lost;
When powerfull enemys resolve to kill,
They heed not justice, strength can do their will;
Ruled by self interest their foes confine,
And word their judgments to their owne designe.
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.