III.

Of female poets, who had names of old, Nothing is shown, but only told, And all we hear of them perhaps may be Male-flatt'ry only, and male-poetry. Few minutes did their beauties light'ning waste, The thunder of their voice did longer last, But that too soon was past. The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit, In her own lasting characters are writ, And they will long my praise of them survive, Though long perhaps too that may live, The trade of glory manag'd by the pen Though great it be, and every where is found. Does bring in but small profit to us men; 'Tis by the number of the sharers drown'd. Orinda on the female coasts of fame, Ingrosses all the goods of a poetic name. She does no partner with her see, Does all the business there alone, which we Are forc'd to carry on by a whole company.