Cried, Sure there never was in nature
So elegant, so fine a creature!
All other insects, that I see,
The frugal ant, industrious bee,
Or silk-worm, with contempt I view,
With all that low mechanick crew
Who servilely their lives employ
In business, enemy to joy.
Mean vulgar herd! ye are my scorn;
For grandeur only I was born,
Or sure am sprung from race divine,
And plac'd on earth to live and shine.
Those lights, that sparkle so on high,
Are but the glow-worms of the sky;
And kings on earth their gems admire,
Because they imitate my fire.
She spoke. Attentive on a spray
A nightingale forbore his lay;
He saw the shining morsel near,
And flew, directed by the glare;
Awhile he gaz'd with sober look,
And thus the trembling prey bespoke:
Deluded fool, with pride elate!
Know 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate:
Less dazzling, long thou might'st have lain
Unheeded on the velvet plain :
Pride, soon or late, degraded mourns,
And beauty wrecks whom she adorns.
TEEN, d'ye say? Nay then 'tis time; Another year destroys your prime.
But stay. The settlement ! « That's made. » Why then's my simple girl afraid?
Yet hold a moment, if you can,
And heedfully the fable scan.
The shades were fled, the morning blush'd,
The winds were in their caverns hush'd,
When hymen, pensive and sedate,
Held o'er the fields his musing gait.
Behind him, through the green-wood shade,
Death's meagre form the god survey'd ;
Who quickly, with gigantick stride,
Out-went his pace and join'd his side.
The chat on various subjects ran,
Till angry hymen thus began.
Relentless death, whose iron sway
Mortals reluctant must obey,
Still of thy pow'r shall I complain,
And thy too partial hand arraign?
When Cupid brings a pair of hearts,
All over stuck with equal darts,
Thy cruel shafts my hopes deride,
And cut the knot that hymen tied.
Shall not the bloody, and the bold,
The miser hoarding up his gold,
The harlot reeking from the stew,
Alone thy fell revenge pursue?
But must the gentle, and the kind,
Thy fury, undistinguish'd, find?
The monarch calmly thus replied;
Weigh well the cause, and then decide.
That friend of yours you lately nam'd,
Cupid, alone is to be blam'd;
Then let the charge be justly laid;
That idle boy neglects his trade,
And hardly once in twenty years
A couple to your temple bears.
'The wretches, whom your office blends,
Silenus now, or Plutus sends;
Hence care, and bitterness, and strife,
Are common to the nuptial life.
Believe me; more than all mankind,
Your vot'ries my compassion find;
Yet cruel am I call'd, and base,
Who seek the wretched to release;
The captive from his bonds to free
Indissoluble but for me.
'Tis I entice him to the yoke;
By me, your crowded altars smoke:
For mortals boldly dare the noose,
Secure that death will set them loose.
THE POET AND HIS PATRON.
WHY, Cælia, is your spreading waist
So loose, so negligently lac'd?
Why must the wrapping bed gown hide
Your snowy bosom's swelling pride?
How ill that dress adorns your head,
Distain'd, and rumpled from the bed!
Those clouds, that shade your blooming face,
A little water might displace,
As nature ev'ry morn bestows
The crystal dew to cleanse the rose.
Those tresses, as the raven black,
That wav'd in ringlets down your back,
Uncomb'd, and injur'd by neglect,
Destroy the face, which once they deck'd.
Whence this forgetfulness of dress?
Pray, madam, are you married?—Yes.
Nay, then indeed the wonder ceases,
No matter now how loose your dress is;
The end is won, your fortune's made;
Your sister now may take the trade.
Alas! what pity 'tis to find
This fault in half the female kind!
From hence proceed aversion, strife,
And all that sours the wedded life.
Beauty can only point the dart,
'Tis neatness guides it to the heart;
Let neatness then and beauty strive
To keep a wav'ring flame alive.
'Tis harder far (you'll find it true)
To keep the conquest, than subdue;
Admit us once behind the screen,
What is there farther to be seen?
A newer face may raise the flame,
But ev'ry woman is the same.
Then study chiefly to improve
The charm that fix'd your husband's love.
Weigh well his humour. Was it dress
That gave your beauty pow'r to bless ?
Pursue it still; be neater seen;
'Tis always frugal to be clean;
So shall you keep alive desire,
And time's swift wing shall fan the fire.
In garret high (as stories say)
A poet sung his tuneful lay;
So soft, so smooth his verse, you'd swear
Apollo and the Muses there;
Thro' all the town his praises rung,
His sonnets at the playhouse sung;
High waving o'er his lab'ring head
The goddess want her pinions spread,
And with poetick fury fir'd,
What Phœbus faintly had inspir’d.
A noble youth of taste and wit
Approv'd the sprightly things he writ,
And sought him in his cobweb dome,
Discharg'd his rent and brought him home.
Behold him at the stately board,
Who, but the poet, and my lord!
Each day deliciously he dines,
And greedy quaffs the gen'rous wines;
His sides were plump, his skin was sleek,
And plenty wanton'd on his cheek;
Astonish'd at the change so new,
Away th' inspiring goddess flew.
Now, dropt for politicks and news,
Neglected lay the drooping muse,
Unmindful whence his fortune came,
He stifled the poetick flame;
Nor tale, nor sonnet, for my lady,
Lampoon, nor epigram was ready.
With just contempt his patron saw,
(Resolv'd his bounty to withdraw)
And thus, with anger in his look,
The late repenting fool bespoke.
Blind to the good that courts thee grown,
Whence has the sun of favour shone?
Delighted with thy tuneful art,
Esteem was growing in my heart,
But idly thou reject'st the charm
That gave it birth, and kept it warm.
Unthinking fools, alone despise
The arts that taught them first to rise.
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