The female tribe surround him as he lay,
And close behind him sat the gentle May:
Where, as she try'd his pulse, he softly drew
A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view!
Then gave his bill, and brib'd the pow'rs divine
With secret vows, to favour his design
Who studies now but discontented May ?
On her soft couch uneasily she lay :
The lumpish husband snor'd away the night,
'Till coughs awak'd him near the morning light.
What then he did, I'll not presume to tell,
Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or hell
Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay,
Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.
Were it by forceful destiny decreed,
Or did from Chance, or Nature's pow'r proceed;
Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,
Shed its selected influence from above;
Whatever was the cause, the tender dame
Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
Receiv'd th' impressions of the love-sick Squire,
And wasted in the soft infectious fire.
Ye Fair, draw near, let May's example move
Your gentle minds to pity those who love!
Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found,
The poor adorer sure had hang'd or drown'd;
But she, your sex's mirror, free from pride,
Was much too meek to prove a homicide.
But to my tale: some sages have defin'd
Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of humankind :
Our Knight (who studied much, we may suppose)
Deriv'd his high philosophy from those;
For, like a prince, he bore the vast expence
Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence:
His house was stately, his retinue gay,
Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.
His spacious garden made to yield to none,
Was compass'd round with walls of solid, stone;
Priapus could not half describe the grace
(Though god of gardens) of this charming place:
A place to tire the rambling wits of France
In long descriptions, and exceed romance:
Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings
Of painted meadows, and of purling springs.
Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground
A crystal fountain spread its streams around,
The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd:.
About this spring (if ancient fame say true)
The dapper elves their midnight sports pursue:
Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen,
In circling dances gambol'd on the green,
While tuneful sprites a merry concert made,
And airy music warbled through the shade.
Hither the noble Knight would oft repair,
(His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care ;)
For this he held it dear, and always bore
The silver key that lock'd the garden-door.
To this sweet place in summer's sultry heat,
He us'd from noise and bus'ness to retreat;
And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,
Solus cum sola, with his lovely May:
For whate'er work was undischarg❜d a-bed,
The duteous Knight in this fair garden sped.
But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure?
How short a space our worldly joys endure!
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach❜rous kind,
But faithless still, and wav'ring as the wind!
O painted monster, form'd mankind to cheat,
With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit !
This rich, this am'rous, venerable Knight,
Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight,
Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief,
And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.
The rage of jealousy then seiz'd his mind,
For much he fear'd the faith of womankind.
His wife not suffer'd from his side to stray,
Was captive kept; he watch'd her night and day,
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her sway.
Full oft in tears did hapless May complain,
And sigh'd full oft; but sigh'd and wept in vain :
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye ;
For oh, 'twas fix'd; she must possess or die?
Nor less impatience vex'd her am'rous Squire,
Wild with delay, and burning with desire.
Watch'd as she was, yet could he not refrain
By secret writings to disclose his pain :
The dame by signs reveal❜d her kind intent,
Till both were conscious what each other meant.
Ah! gentle Knight, what would thy eyes avail, 500
Though they could see as far as ships can sail?
'Tis better, sure, when blind, deceiv'd to be,
Than be deluded when a man can see!
Argus himself, so cautious and so wise, Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes : So many an honest husband may, 'tis known, Who wisely, never thinks the case his own.
The dame at last, by diligence and care, Procur'd the key her Knight was wont to bear; She took the wards in wax before the fire, And gave the impression to the trusty Squire. By means of this some wonder shall appear, Which, in due place and season, you may hear. Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of yore, What flight is that which Love will not explore? 515 And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show
The feats true lovers, when they list, can do:
Though watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all,
They found the art of kissing through a wall.
But now no longer from our Tale to stray,
It happ'd, that once upon a summer's day,
Our rev'rend Knight was urg'd to am❜rous play:
He rais'd his spouse ere matin bell was rung,
And thus his morning canticle he sung.
Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes:
Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady rise!
Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain,
And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain :
The winter's past; the clouds and tempest fly;
The sun adorns the fields and brightens all the sky.
Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming part
My bosom wounds, and captivates my heart;
Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage,
Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.
This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made
To haste before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret and undescry'd he took his way,
And ambush'd close behind an arbour lay.
It was not long ere January came,
And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,
He turn'd the key, and made the gate secure.
Here let us walk, he said, observ'd by none,
Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:
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