Fain would my Pen, my Hearts best Thanks indite:

Yet trembles to reflect to Whom I write!

To Whom; what has that Heart to apprehend,

Who lays it's Failings open to a Friend?

Such pleasing Sensure, that ‘tis Joy to Mend!

A Cause too Horrid! Has too long delayd,

What gratitude should else before have said.

But shoud I longer all my Thanks conceal,

(Those Thanks, which I can less Express, than Feel)

This Simple Sheet, might soon it's Size extend,

And to a Volume rise, before I end.

What Truth, and all my Sex united owe,

I wish, but wish in vain, for Power to show.

What praise sufficient can we give to Thee?

Who thus hast shewn us All we ought to be!

By forming One to Immortality!

Who that has read thy sweet Clarissa thro’,

But must have Vertues, she till then nere knew;

Who can have Vertue, and not own Delight,

To see it shewn in such a varied Light:

So soft, yet strong! So Innocently Bright!

Were Women realy, such as Thou hast made,

What Honour to the Sex woud then be paid!

No Coxcomb's Breath, would treat the Name with Scorn,

ButWoman woud indeed, the World adorn!

This, will in After-Ages be of Course,

When Thy sweet Influence! has instilld it's Force:

Each pleasing Precept’s, Emulative Charm,

Must every Tendency to Vice disarm.

Oft as I read thy Soul-warmd Pages o’er,

I find new Beauties, never felt before.

Thy lovely Lessons, touchingly express,

The Strength of Virtue, and of Wickedness:

So strong, so justly, are both Colours laid,

That sure Henceforward, no reflecting Maid,

Can read Clarissa! And yet be Betray’d!

Afflictions Self, that most unwelcome Guest!

Appears inviting, in Clarissa's Breast:

Since All her weighty Trials join to prove,

Such Vertue, worthy of Immortal-Love!

Thence, Maids shall learn to shun theWiles of Art,

And Early Prudence, guard the Female Heart.

Thence, Thousands yet unborn, shall owe Thee Praise:

That DutiousWives, and Daughters, bless their Days.