Quail and Serpent

Your’s Lady is the constant Love,

The tender Meekness of the Dove;

In scaly Volumes vainly roll’d,

Shall Falshood wreathe her serpent [F]old,

Shall vainly seek to do you Wrong,

And wield in vain her double Tongue:

Serene you walk, your sure Defence

The Bride of conscious Innocence.