On Lena

Lena a virgin was so pure,
So holy, sober, chast, demure,
So all o'r mild, as in good sooth
Butter would hardly melt in mouth.
But Lena married grew a scold
Outragious, impudent, and bold;
And when her lustful fires went out,
A Bawd, she threw the sparks about.
Her early goodness did presage
She would degenerate with age.
The double blossom'd Apple-tree
Never bears any fruit we see:
And a forward promising Spring,
Doth but a sterile Autumne bring.
The Proverb thus she verifies,
A young Saint an old Divel is.