Perfia, and both the Indies, muft provide
her Pomp, and gratifie her Pride; Of rich Brocard, a fhining Robe she wears,
And Gems furround her lovely Neck like Stars:
In Coach and Six the Goddess flaunts abroad,
And Crowds of Liv'ry Beaus her Chariot load.
Who fees her thus, O happy as a Queen!
He cries.----But fhift the gawdy treacherous Scene;
View her at Home, in her Domestick Light,
For thither she must come, at least at Night:
What has the there? A furly brutal Lord,
Who chides, and fnaps her up at ev'ry Word;
A beaftly Sot, who while fhe holds his Head,
With drunken Filth bedawbs the Nuptial Bed;
Sick to the Heart, fhe breathes the nauseous Fume
Of odious Steams, that poifon all the Room;
Weeping all Night the trembling Creature lyes,
And counts the tedious Hours when she may rife;
But most the fears left waking the should find,
To make amends, the Monster wou'd be kind;
Thofe matchlefs Beauties, worthy of a God,
Muft bear, tho' much averfe, the loathfome Load.
What then will be the Chance that next enfues?
Some vile Disease, fresh reeking from the Stews:
The fecret Venom, circling in her Veins,.
Works thro? her Skin, and bursts in bloating Stains;
Her Eyes grow dim, and her infected Breath,
Tainting her Gums, difcolours all her Teeth,
Her Cheeks their Freshnefs lofe, and wonted Grace,
And an unusual Palenefs fpreads her Face,
Of sharp Nocturnal Anguifh fhe complains,
And guiltless of the Caufe, relates her Pains.
The conscious Husband, whom like Symptoms feize,
Charges on her the Guilt of their Disease;
Affecting Fury, acts a Mad-man's Part,
He'll rip the Fatal Secret from her Heart;
Bids her confefs, calls her Ten thousand Whores:
In vain the kneels, the weeps, protefts, implores;
Scarce with her Life the 'scapes, expos'd to Shame,
In Body tortur'd, murder'd in her Fame,
Rots with a vile Adultèrefs's Name;
Abandon'd to the World, without Defence,
And happy only in her Innocence.
Such is the Vengeance, that the Gods provide,
For those who barter Liberty for Pride,
Who impioufly invoke the Pow'rs above,
To witness to falfe Vows, of mutual Love.
Thousands of poor Cleora's may be found,
Such Husbands, and fuch wretched Wives abound.
Ye Guardian Pow'rs, the Arbiters of Blifs,
Preferve Clarinda from a Fate like this;
You form'd her Fair, not any Grace deny'd,
But gave, alas! a Spark too much of Pride;
Reform that Failing, and protect her ftill,
Ah! fave her from the Curfe of chufing ill.
Deem it not Envy, or a jealous Care,
That forms thefe Wishes, or provokes this Pray'r;
Tho' more than Death, I fear to fee thofe Charms
Allotted to fome happier Mortal's Arms;
Tormenting Thought! yet cou'd I bear that Pain,
Or any Ill, but hearing her complain :
Intent on her; my Love forgets its own,
Nor frames one With, but for her fake alone.
Whom-e'er the Gods have deftin'd to prefer,
They cannot make me wretched, bleffing her.
An APOLOGY for an unfeasonable Surprife.
Aireft Zelinda, ceafe to chide or grieve,
Nor blush at Joys, that only you can give.
Who with bold Eyes, furvey'd thofe matchlefs Charms,
Is punish'd, feeing in another's Arms:
With greedy Looks, he views each naked Part,
Joy feeds his Eyes, but Envy tears his Heart.
So caught was Mars, and Mercury aloud
Proclaim'd his Grief, that he was not the God:
So to be caught was ev'ry God's Defire,
Nor lefs than Venus can Zelinda Fire.
Forgive him then, thou more than › Heav'nly Fair,
Pardon the Crime, reveng'd by the Despair.
All that we know, that wretched Mortals feel
In those fad Regions, where the tortur'd dwell,
Is that they, fee the Raptures of the Bleft,
And view the Joys, that they must never taste.
N lonely Shades, diftracted with Defpair,
Shunning, Mankind, and torn with killing Care, My Eyes o'er-flowing, and my frantick Mind
Rack'd with wild Thoughts, fweiling with Sighs the
Thro' Paths untrodden, Day and Night
Mourning the Fate of my fuccefslefs Love.
Who mofl defire to live, untimely fall;
But when we beg to die, Death flies our Call:
Adonis dies, and torn is the lov'd Breaft
In midst of Joy, where Venus wont to reft;
That Fate, which cruel feem'd to him, wou'd be
Pity, Relief, and Happiness to me.
As melted Gold preferves its Weight the fame,
So burns my Love, nor waftes within the Flame:
When will my Sorrows end? In vain, in vain
I call to Heav'n, and tell the Gods my Pain;
The Gods averfe, like Myra, to my Pray's,
Confent to doom whom the denies to spare.
Why do I feek for Foreign Aids, when I
Bear ready by my Side the Power to die?
Be keen my Sword, and ferve thy Mafter well,
Heal Wounds with Wounds, and Love with Death re-
Strait up I rofe, and to my aking Breast,
My Bofom bare, the pointed Blade I preft;
When lo! astonish'd! * an unusual Light
Pierc'd the thick Shade, and all around grew bright;
My dazzl'd Eyes a radiant Form behold,
Splendid with Light, like Beams of burning Gold,
Eternal Rays his shining Temples grace,
Eternal Youth fat blooming on his Face:
Trembling I liften, proftrate on the Ground,
His Breath perfumes the Grove, and Mufick's in the
Sound.
Ceafe Lover, cease, thy tender Heart to vex
In fruitless Plaints, of an ungrateful Sex;
In Fates Eternal Volumes it is writ,
That Women ever shall be Foes to Wit;
With proper Arts their fickly Minds command,
And please 'em with the things they understand :
With noifie Fopperiés their Hearts affail,
Renounce all Senfe; how should thy Songs prevail,
When I, the God of Wit, fo oft cou'd fail?
Remember me, and in my Story find,
How vainly Merit pleads to Womankind;
I, by whom all things fhine, who tune the Spheres,
Who guide the Day, and gild the Night with Stars,
Whofe Youth and Beauty from all Ages paft,
Sprang with the World, and with the World fhall laft;
How oft with fruitless Tears have I implor'd
Ungrateful Nymphs, and tho' a God, ador❜d?
When cou'd my Wit, my Beauty, or my Youth,
Move one hard Heart, or mov'd, fecure its Truth?
Here a proud Nymph with painful Steps I chace,
The Winds out-flying in our nimble Race;
Stay Daphne, stay,-----in vain, in vain I try
To ftop her fpeed, redoubling at my Cry;
O'er craggy Rocks, and rugged Hills she climbs,
And tears on pointed Flints her tender Limbs;
But caught at length, just as my Arms I fold,
Turn'd to a Tree, the yet escapes my hold.
In my next Love a diff'rent Fate I find,
Ah! which is worse, the Falfe, or the Unkind?
Forgetting Daphne, I Corònis chose,
A kinder Nymph--- -too kind for my Repofe:
The Joys I give, but more inflame her Breaft,
She keeps a private Drudge to quench the reft;
* How, and with whom, the very Birds proclaim
Her black Pollution, and reveal my Shame.
Hard lot of Beauty, fatally beftow'd,
Or given to the Falfe, or to the Proud!
By diff'ring Ways, they bring us equal Pain,
The Falfe betray us, and the Proud difdain."
Scorn'd and abus'd from Mortal Loves I fly,
To seek more Truth in my own Native Sky:
Venus, the fairest of Immortal Loves,
Bright as my Beams, and gentle as her Doves,
With glowing Eyes, confeffing warm Defires,
She fummons Heav'n and Earth to quench her Fires;
Me the excludes, and I in vain adore,
Who neither God nor Man refus'd before;
Vulcan, the very Monster of the Skies,
Vulcan she takes, the God of Wit denies.
Then cease to murmur at thy Myra's Pride,
Whimfie, not Reason, is the Female Guide;
The Fate of which their Mafter does complain,
Is of bad Omen to th' infpired Train.
What Vows were loft! Hark how Catullus mourns,
How Ovid weeps, and flighted Gallus burns;
In melting Strains fee gentle Waller bleed,
Unmov'd the hears, what none unmov'd can read;
And thou who oft with fuch ambitious Choice,
Haft rais'd to Myra thy aspiring Voice;
|