And will each accidental Glance
Interpret for a kind Advance..
BUT what Success Vanessa met,
Is to the World a Secret yet;
Whether the Nymph, to please her Swain,
Talks in a high romantick Strain;
Or whether he at last descends
To like with lefs Seraphick Ends;
Or to compound the Bus'nefs, whether
'They temper Love and Books together;
Muft never to Mankind be told,
Nor fhall the confcious Mufe unfold.
MEAN Time the mournful Queen of Love
Led but a weary Life above.
She ventures now to leave the Skies,
Grown by Vanessa's Conduct wife.
For tho' by one perverfe Event
Pallas had crofs'd her firft Intent,
Tho' her defign was not obtain'd,
Yet had the much experience gain'd;
And, by the Project vainly try'd,
Could better now the Caufe decide.
She gave due Notice, that both Parties,
Coram Regina prox' die Martis,
Shou'd at their Peril without fail
Come and appear, and fave their Bail.
All met, and Silence thrice proclaim'd,
One Lawyer to each Side was nam’d.
VOL. IV.
The Judge difcover'd in her Face
Refentments for her late Difgrace;
And, full of Anger, Shame, and Grief,
Directed them to mind their Brief;
Nor spend their Time to fhew their Reading;
She'd have a fummary Proceeding.
She gather'd under ev'ry Head,
The Sum of what each Lawyer faid;
Gave her own Reasons laft; and then
Decreed the Caufe against the Men.
BUT, in a weighty Cafe like this,
To fhew fhe did not judge amifs,
Which evil Tongues might elfe report,
She made a Speech in open Court;
Wherein the grievously complains,
"How fhe was cheated by the Swains."
On whofe Petition (humbly fhewing
That Women were not worth the wooing,
And that unless the Sex would mend,
The Race of Lovers foon muft end ;)
"She was at Lord knows what Expence,
"To form a Nymph of Wit and Sense;
A Model for her Sex defign'd,
"Who never could one Lover find.
"She faw her Favour was mifplac'd;
"The Fellows had a wretched Tafte ;
"She needs must tell them to their Face,
They were a fenfelefs, ftupid Race;
"And were fhe to begin agen,
"She'd study to reform the Men;
"Or add fome Grains of Folly more
"To Women than they had before.
"To put them on an equal Foot;
"And this, or nothing else, wou'd do't.
"This might their mutual Fancy strike.
Since ev'ry. Being loves its Like.
"BUT now, repenting what was done,
"She left all Bus'nefs to her Son;
"She puts the World in his Poffeffion,
"And let him use it at Discretion."
The Cry'r was order'd to dismiss
The Court, fo made his laft O yes!
The Goddess wou'd no longer wait;
But rifing from her Chair of State,
Left all below at Six and Sev'n,
Harness'd her Doves, and flew to Heav'n.
BAUCIS and PHILEMON. Imitated from the Eighth Book of Ovid.
N ancient Times, as Story tells,
IN ancient as leave their Celli,
And ftrole about, but hide their Quality,
To try good People's Hofpitality.
IT happen'd on a Winter Night,
As Authors of the Legend write,
Two Brother Hermits, Saints by Trade,
Taking their Tour in Masquerade,
Difguis'd in tatter'd Habits, went
To a fmall Village down in Kent;
Where, in the Strollers canting Strain,
They begg'd from Door to Door in vain ;
Try'd ev'ry Tone might Pity win,
But not a Soul would let them in.
OUR wand'ring Saints in woful State,
Treated at this ungodly Rate;
Having thro' all the Village pafs'd,
To a small Cottage came at last;
Where dwelt a good honest old Yeoman,
Call'd, in the Neighbourhood, Philemon.
Who kindly did these Saints invite
In his poor Hut to país the Night;
And then the hospitable Sire
Bid Goody Baucis mend the Fire;
While he from out the Chimney took
A Flitch of Bacon off the Hook;
And freely from the fatteft Side
Cut out large Slices to be fry'd;
Then ftepp'd afide to fetch 'em Drink,
Fill'd a large Jug up to the Brink;
And faw it fairly twice go round;
Yet (what is wonderful) they found
"Twas ftill replenish'd to the Top,
As if they ne'er had touch'd a Drop.
The good old Couple were amaz'd,
And often on each other gaz'd;
For both were frightned to the Heart,
And just began to cry, -What art!
Then foftly turn'd afide to View,
Whether the Lights were burning blue.
The gentle Pilgrims foon aware on't,
Told 'em their Calling, and their Errant;
Good Folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but Saints, the Hermits faid ;
No Hurt fhall come to you or yours;
But, for that Pack of churlish Boors,
Not fit to live on Chriftian Ground,
They and their Houfes fhall be drown'd;
Whilft you fhall fee your Cottage rife,
And grow a Church before your Eyes.
THEY fcarce had fpoke; when fair and soft,
The Roof began to mount aloft ;
Aloft rofe ev'ry Beam and Rafter,
The heavy Wall climb'd flowly after.
THE Chimney widen'd, and grew higher,
Became a Steeple with a Spire.
THE Kettle to the Top was hoist, And there ftood faften'd to a Joist; But with the Upfide down, to fhow Its Inclination for below;
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