The harlot, reeking from the ftew,
Alone thy fell revenge purfue?
But muft the gentle and the kind
Thy fury, undistinguish'd, find?
The monarch calmly thus reply'd :
Weigh well the caufe, and then decide.
That friend of yours, you lately nam'd,
Cupid alone is to be blam'd;
Then let the charge be juftly laid:
The 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 fends;
Hence care, and bitternefs, and ftrife,
Are common to the nuptial life.
Believe me, more than all mankind,
Your vot'ries my compaflion find;
Yet cruel am I call'd, and base,
Who feek the wretched to releafe;
The captive from his bonds to free,
Indiffoluble but for me.
'Tis I entice him to the yoke;
By me your crouded altars fmoke:
For mortals boldly dare the noofé,
Secure that Death will fet them loofe.
LXIX. The POET, and his PATRON.
WHY, Celia, is your spreading waist
So loofe, fo negligently lac'd?
Why muft the wrapping bed-gown hide
Your fnowy bofom's fwelling pride?
How ill that drefs adorns your head,
Diftain'd, and rumpled from the bed!
Thofe clouds, that fhade your blooming face,
A little water might difplace,
As Nature every morn bestows
The cryftal dew, to cleanfe the rofe.
Thofe treffes, 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 drefs?
Pray, madam, are you marry'd? Yes.
Nay then indeed the wonder ceafes,
No matter now how loofe your drefs is;
The end is won, your fortune's made,
Your fifter now may take the trade.
Alas! what pity 'tis to find
This fault in half the female kind!
From hence proceed averfion, ftrife,
And all that fours the wedded life.
Beauty can only point the dart,
'Tis neatnefs guides it to the heart;
Let neatness then and beauty ftrive
To keep a wav'ring flame alive.
'Tis harder far (you'll find it true)
To keep the conqueft than fubdue;
Admit us once behind the fcreen,
What is there farther to be feen?
A newer face may raife the flame,
But every woman is the fame.
Then ftudy chiefly to improve
The charm that fix'd your hufband's love.
Weigh well his humour. Was it drefs
That gave your beauty pow'r to blefs?
Purfue it ftill,- be neater seen,
' is always frugal to be clean;
So fhall you keep alive defire,
And time's fwift wing fhall fan the fire.
In garret high (as ftories fay)
A Poet fung his tuneful lay;
So foft, fo fmooth his verfe, you'd fwear
Apollo and the Mufes there;
Thro' all the town his praifes rung,
His fonnets at the playhouse fung;
High wav'ring o'er his lab'ring head,
The goddefs Want her pinions fpread,
And with poetic fury fir'd,
What Phoebus faintly had infpir'd.
A noble Youth, of taffe and wit,
Approv'd the sprightly things he writ,
And fought him in his cobweb dome,
Difcharg'd his rent, and brought him home.
Behold him at the ftately board,
Who but the Poet and my Lord!
Each day, delicioufly he dines,
And greedy quaffs the gen'rous wines;
His fides were plump, his fkin was fleek,
And plenty wanton'd on his cheek;
Aftonish'd at the change fo new,
Away th' infpiring Goddefs flew.
Now, dropt for politics and news,
Neglected lay the drooping Mufe;
Unmindful whence his fortune came,
He ftifled the poetic flame;
Nor tale, nor fonnet, for my lady,
Lampoon nor Epigram was ready.
With just contempt his Patron faw,
(Refolv'd his bounty to withdraw)
And thus with anger in his look,
The late-repenting fool befpoke.
Blind to the good that courts thee grown,
Whence has the fon of favour fhone?
Delighted with thy tuneful art,
Efteem was growing in my heart,
But idly thou reject'ft the charm
That gave it birth and kept it warm.
Unthinking fools alone defpife
The arts, that taught them firft to rife.
LXX. The WOLF, the SHEEP, and the LAMB.
UTY demands, the parent's voice
Should fanctify the daughter's choice;
In that is due obedience shown;
To chufe belongs to her alone.
May horror feize his midnight hour,
Who builds upon a. parent's pow'r,
And claims, by purchafe vile and bafe,
The loathing maid for his embrace:
Hence virtue fickens; and the breaft,
Where Peace had built her downy neft,
Becomes the troubled feat of care,
And pines with anguish and defpair.
A Wolf, rapacious, rough, and bold,
Whofe nightly plunders thinn'd the fold,
Contemplating his ill-spent life,
And cloy'd with thefts would take a wife,
His purpofe known, the favage race,
In num'rous crouds attend the place;
For why, a mighty Wolf he was,
And held dominion in his jaws.
Her fav'rite whelp each mother brought,
And humbly his alliance fought;
But cold by age, or else too nice,
None found acceptance in his eyes.
It happen'd as at early dawn,
He folitary crofs'd the lawn,
Stray'd from the fold, a fportive Lamb
Skip'd wanton by her fleecy Dam;
When Cupid, foe to man and beast,
Discharg'd an arrow at his breast.
The tim'rous breed the robber knew,
And trembling o'er the meadow flew;
Their nimbleft fpeed the Wolf o'ertook,
And courteous, thus the Dam bespoke :
Stay, faireft, and fufpend your fear,
Truft me, no enemy is near;
X 3
Thefe jaws, in flaughter oft imbru'd,
At length have known enough of blood;
And kinder bus'nefs brings me now,
Vanquish'd, at beauty's feet to bow.
You have a daughter-Sweet, forgive
A Wolf's addrefs.--In her I live;
Love from her eyes like light'ning came,
And fet my marrow all on flame;
Let your confent confirm my choice,
And ratify our nuptial joys.
Me ample wealth, and pow'r attend,
Wide o'er the plains my realms extend:
What midnight robber dare invade
The fold, if I the guard am made?
At home the fhepherd's cur may fleep,
While I fecure his master's fheep.
- Difcourfe like this, attention claim'd;
Grandeur the Mother's breaft inflam'd:
Now fearless by his fide fhe walk'd,
Of fettlements, and jointures talk'd;
Propos'd, and doubled her demands
Of flow'ry fields, and turnip-lands.
The Wolf agrees. Her bofom fwells;
To Mifs her happy fate fhe tells:
And of her grand alliance vain,
Contemns her kindred of the plain.
The loathing Lamb with horror hears,
And wearies out her Dam with pray'rs :
But all in vain; Mamma beft knew
What unexperienc'd girls fhould do.
So, to the neighbouring meadow carry'd,
A formal afs the couple marry'd.
Torn from the Tyrant-mother's fide,
The Trembler goes, a Victim-bride!
Reluctant meets the rude embrace,
And bleats among the howling race:
With horror oft her eyes behold
Her murder'd kindred of the fold;
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