The Loss of Female Character

See that fallen Princess! her splendor is gone—
The pomp of her morning is over;
Her day-star of pleasure refuses to dawn,
She wanders a nocturnal rover,

Alas! she resembles Jerusalem's fall,

The fate of that wonderful city;

When grief with astonishment rung from the wall,

Instead of the heart cheering ditty.

When music was silent, no more to be rung,

When Sion wept over her daughter;

On grief's drooping willow their harps they were hung,

When pendent o'er Babylon's water.

She looks like some Star that has fall'n from her sphere,

No more by her cluster surrounded;

Her comrades of pleasure refuse her to cheer,

And leave her dethron'd and confounded.

She looks like some Queen who has boasted in vain,
Whose diamond refuses to glitter;
Deserted by those who once bow'd in her train,
Whose flight to her soul must be bitter.

She looks like the twilight, her sun sunk away,
He sets; but to rise again never!
Like the Eve, with a blush bids farewell to the day,
And darkness conceals her forever.