Bathsheba

In days of yore, when men were praised, Power was seized by muscular force, Women, in shadow, were concealed, Their voices suppressed, hidden from sight. Yet among them, some bold and cunning, In hidden chambers, plotted and schemed, To wield weapons not of muscle's might, But of cunning, under love's command. From ancient tales of fair Bathsheba, To the face of Helen, who launched a thousand ships, Art of love pursuit they learned, With lips that spoke honeyed words. With sweet allure and deceitful lies, Men were beguiled and ensnared, Their minds tempted by pleasure, Like prey in a cunning trap. For love, they knew, held mighty sway, A bond stronger than golden chain, And hearts, once captive, could not stray, In the fire of passion, held forever. Through the ages, the game evolves, From courtly courts to modern stage, Where the art of seduction itself dissolves, In every age, it finds its place.