I shall but slightly stop a minute,
To drop one observation in it;
Remarking, that howe'er prefer'd to
Their sex, for many a course in virtue,
The bright allurement, well applied,
May tempt good nymphs to turn aside.
Next, Lybia's golden orchard grew
Blooming temptation to the view,
In which a dragon, call'd the Law,
Kept conscientious fools in awe :
Yet Power, superior to the crime,
And tall Ambition, skill'd to climb,
With traitors of a new invention,
Who sell their country for a pension,
Through many a thicket won their way,
And spoil'd the grove, and shar'd the prey.
On the same golden system laid,
The world was in the fifth display'd:
The Earth a golden axis turn'd;
The Heavens, with golden planets, burn'd;
And thence, as astrologians know,
Deriv'd their influence below:
A girdle, call'd the zodiac, grac'd
The glittering round of Nature's waste,
Whose mystic charm from gold arises,
For this the Cæstus of the skies is:
And as in Homer's works, we read
(And Homer is the poet's creed)
Of a well twisted golden tether,

That tied the Heavens and Earth together,
Such was the cord, or such the cable,
That tied the spheres within this table;
By which, the artist, underhand,
Would give the wise to understand,
That interest, in ev'ry creature,
Throughout religion, law, and nature,
From east to west, and pole to pole,
Moves, binds, suspends, and turns the whole.
While thus, in passing slightly o'er, I
Survey'd the scenes of ancient story;
Or ey'd, with more minute attention,
What prudence, here, forbids to mention;
The Muse my shoulder tapp'd, to mind me
Of things that pass'd, the while, behind me.
I turn'd and view'd, with deep surprise,
The phantom that assail'd my eyes:
His hinder-head disrob'd of hair,
His sapless back and shoulders bare,
Confess'd the wrinkles of a sage
Who past ten Nestors in his age;
But cloth'd before with decent grace,
And infant sweetness in his face,

Not Smintheus with such vigour strung,
Nor blooming Hebe look'd so young.
On his left hand a palette lay,
With many a teint of colours gay;
While, guided with an easy slight,
The flying pencil grac'd his right.

Unnumber'd canvasses appear'd,
Before the moving artist rear'd,
On whose inspirited expanse he
Express'd the creatures of his fancy;
So touch'd, with such a swift command,
With such a magic pow'r of hand,
That Nature did, herself, appear
Less real than her semblance here,
And, not a mortal, so betray'd,

Could know the substance from the shade!
Whate'er the world conceives, in life,

Worth toil, anxiety, and strife;

Whate'er by ignorance is bought,
By madness wish'd or folly sought,
The mitres, coronets, and garters,
To which Ambition leads his martyrs;
With ev'ry joy and toy, that can
Amuse the various child of man,
Was painted here in many á scene,
A trifling, transient, charming train!

Awhile I stood, in thought suspended,
To guess what these affairs intended;
When, lo, the Muse, in whispers, told,
""T is father Time whom you behold;
In part discover'd to the wise,
In part conceal'd from human eyes.
A slave to yon gold-giving pow'r,
For him he spends each restless hour;
The product of his toil intends
As gifts to those his god befriends,
And paints what other mortals view
As substances, though shades to you."
She ceas'd, and, turning to the sentry,
Desir'd he 'd give the ladies entry;
And straight the portal open'd wide,
And in they delug'd like a tide.
So, to some grove, by stress of weather,
Fast flock the fowl of ev'ry feather;
A mighty, pretty, prating rabble,
Like Iris rigg'd, and tongued like Babel;
Then crowding toward the nuptial throne,
By bags of strong attraction known,
Low bending to their god they bow'd,
And vented thus their pray'r aloud:

"Great power! in whom our sex confides,
Who rul'st the turns of female tides,
Who kenst, while varying fancy ranges
Through all its doubles, twirls, and changes,
To what a woman's heart is prone,

A secret to ourselves unknown-
O, give us, give us, mighty pow'r !
The wedded joy of ev'ry hour:
Assign thy favourites, in marriage,
To coaches of distinguish'd carriage;
To all the frippery of dressing,

A nameless, boundless, endless blessing;
To drums, ridottos, sights, and sounds;
To visits in eternal rounds;

To card and counter, rake and rattle;

To the whole lust of tongue and tattle;

And all the dear delightful trances

Of countless frolics, fits, and fancies.

You have heard, that men, unpolish'd boors! Lay naughty passions at our doors;

'T is your's to contradict the liar,
Who are, yourself, our chief desire.
O then, as widow, or as wife,

To you we yield each choice in life;
Or would you ev'ry pray'r fulfil,

Wed us! O! wed us, to our will!"

They ceas'd, and, without more addition, The god confirm'd their full petition:

To Time he beckon'd, and desir'd

He'd give the good each nymph requir'd;

And, from his visionary treasure,
Wed ev'ry woman to her pleasure.

The first, who came, resolv'd to fix
Upon a gilded coach and six;
The suit was granted her on sight,
The nymph with ardour seiz'd her right.
A wonder! by possession banish'd,
The coach and dappled coursers vanish'd ;

And a foul waggon held the fair
Full laden with a weight of care:
She sigh'd; her sisters caught the sound,
And one insulting laugh went round.

The second was a dame of Britain,
Who by a coronet was smitten;
With boldness she advanc'd her claim,
Exulting in so just a flame.

But ah, where bliss alone was patent,
What unsuspected mischief latent!
The worst in all Pandora's box,
Her coronet contain'd a ———.

With this example in her eye,

The third, a widow'd dame, drew nigh,
And fix'd her sight and soul together
Upon a raking hat and feather;
Nor sigh'd in vain, but seiz'd her due,
And clasp'd old age in twenty-two.

Thus, through the difference and degrees Of sword-knots, mitres, and toupees,

Prim bands, pert bobs, and well-hung blades,
Long robes, smart jackets, fierce cockades,
And all the fooleries in fashion,
Whate'er became the darling passion,
The good for which they did importune,
Was straight revers'd into misfortune;
And ev'ry woman, like the first,
Was, at her own entreaty, curst.

At length, was introduc'd a fair,
With such a face, and such an air,
As never was, on Earth, I ween,
Save by poetic organs, seen.

With decent grace and gentle cheer,
The bright adventurer drew near;
Her mild approach the godhead spied,
And, "Fairest," with a smile, he cried,
"If aught you seek in Hymen's pow'r,
You find him in a happy hour."

At this, the virgin, half amaz'd,
As round the spacious dome she gaz'd,
With caution ev'ry symbol ey'd,
And, blushing, gracefully replied.

"If you are he, whose pow'r controls
And knits the sympathy of souls,
Then, whence this pomp of worthless geer,
And why this heap of counters here?
Is this vain show of glittering ore,
The bliss that Hymen has in store?
Love sees the folly with the gloss,
And laughs to scorn thy useless dross.
"Where are the symbols of thy reign?
And where thy robe of Tyrian grain,
Whose teint, in virgin-colours dy'd,
Derives its blushing from the bride?
Where is thy torch, serenely bright,
To lovers yielding warmth and light,
That from the heart derives its fire,
And only can, with life, expire?

"Will this unactive mass impart
The social feelings of the heart?
Or can material fetters bind
The free affections of the mind?
Through ev'ry age, the great and wise,
Behold thee with superior eyes;
Love spurns thy treasures with disdain,
And Virtue flies thy hostile reign.

'By love, congenial souls embrace, Celestial source of human race! From whence, the cordial sense within, The bosom'd amities of kin,

The call of Nature to her kind,
And all the tunings of the mind,
That, winding Heaven's harmonious plan,
Compose the brotherhood of man."

She said, and gracefully withdrew;
Her steps the Muse and I pursue.
Along an unfrequented way
The virgin led, nor led astray;
Till, like the first, in form and size,
A second fabric struck our eyes:
We enter'd, guided by the fair,
And saw a second Hymen there.

A silken robe of saffron hue
About his decent shoulders flew;
While a fair taper's virgin light
Gave Ovid to his soul and sight.

An hundred Cupids wanton'd round, Whose useless quivers strow'd the ground; While, careless of their wonted trade, They with the smiling Graces play'd.

Along the wall's extended side,
With teints of varying nature dy'd,
In needled tapestry, was told
The tale of many a love of old.

In groves, that breath'd a citron air,
Together walk'd the wedded pair;
Or toy'd upon the vernal ground,
Their beauteous offspring sporting round;
Or, lock'd in sweet embracement, lay,
And slept and lov'd the night away.

There sat Penelope in tears,
Besieg'd, like Troy, for ten long years:
Her suitors, in a neighbouring room,
Wait the long promise of the loom,
Which she defers from day to day,
Till death determin'd to delay.
With thoughts of fond remembrance wrung,
Deep sorrowing, o'er her work she hung;
Where, in the fields, at Ilium fought,
The labours of her lord she wrought,
The toil, the dust, the flying foe,
The rallied host, the instant blow;
Then, sighing, trembled at the view,
Scar'd at the dangers which she drew.

There too, suspended o'er the wave,
Alcione was seen to rave,
When, as the foundering wreck she spied,
She on her sinking Ceÿx cried:
Her Ceyx, though by seas oppress'd,
Still bears her image in his breast;
And, with his fondest latest breath,
Murmurs, "Alcione!" in death.

Panthea there, upon a bier,
Lay'd the sole lord of her desire:
His limbs were scatter'd through the plains;
She join'd, and kiss'd, the dear remains.
Too pond'rous was her weight of woe,
For sighs to rise, or tears to flow;
On the lov'd corse she fix'd her view,
Nor other use of seeing knew;
While high and stedfast as she gaz'd,
Her snowy arm a poniard rais'd,
Nor yet the desperate weapon stay'd,
But, for a longer look, delay'd,
Till, plunged within her beauteous breast,
She on his bosom sunk to rest.

But, O, beyond whate'er was told In modern tales, or truths of old, One pair, in form and spirit twin'd, Out-lov'd the loves of human kind;

She Hero, he Leander, nam'd,
For mutual faith, as beauty, fam'd!
Their story, from its source, begun,
And, to the fatal period, run.

While, bow'd at Cytherea's shrine,
The youth adores her pow'r divine,
He sees her blooming priestess there,
Beyond the sea-born goddess, fair:
She, as some god, the stripling eyes,
Just lighted from his native skies-
The god, whose chariot guides the hour;
Or, haply, love's immortal pow'r.
At once,
their conscious glances spoke,
Like fate, the strong and mutual stroke;
Attracted by a secret force,

Like currents meeting in their course,
That, thence, one stream for ever rolls,
Together rush'd their mingling souls,
Too close for fortune to divide,
For each was lost in either tide.

In vain, by ruthless parents torn,
Their bodies are asunder borne,
And tow'ring bulwarks intervene,
And envious ocean rolls between;
Love wings their letters o'er the sea,
And kisses melt the seals away.

And now the sable night impends,
Leander to the shore descends,
Exults at the appointed hour,
And marks the signal on the tow'r-
A torch, to guide the lover's way,
Endear'd beyond the brightest day!
At once, he plunges in the tide;
His arms the Hellespont divide;
The danger and the toil he braves,
And dashes the contending waves.

While near, and nearer to his sight,
The taper darts a ruddier light,
Recruited at the view, he glows;
Aside the whelming billow throws:
The winds and seas oppose in vain ;
He spurns, he mounts, he skims the main.
Now, from the tow'r, where Hero stood,
And threw a radiance o'er the flood,
Leander, in the deep, she spied,
And would have sprung to join his side;
Howe'er, her wishes make essay,
And clasp and warm him on his way.

The main is cross'd, the shore is gain'd, The long wish'd bour, at last, attain'd, But lovers, if there e'er arose A pair, so form'd and fond as those, So lov'd, so beauteous, and so bless 'd, Alone can speak or think the rest; Nor will the weeping Muse unfold The close, too tragic to be told!

Long were the loving list to name, With Portia's faith, that swallow'd flame: But much the longer list were those Whose joys were unallay'd by woes; Whose bliss no cruel parents cross'd, Whose love not ages could exhaust, Where not a cloud did intervene, Or once o'ercast their bright serene, But, through the summer's day of life, The husband tender as the wife, Like Henry and his nut-brown maid, Their faith nor shaken nor decay'd, Together ran the blissful race, Together liv'd, and slept in peace.

Long time the much inquiring maid,
From story on to story stray'd;
Joy'd in the joys that lovers know,
Or wept her tribute to their woe;
Till Hymen, with a placid air,
Approaching, thus address'd the fair.
"Hail to the Nymph, whose sacred train
Of virtues shall restore my reign!
Whate'er the wishes of thy soul,
But speak them, and possess the whole."
"Thanks, gentle pow'r," the maid replied;
"Your bounty shall be amply tried.

I seek not titles, rank, or state,
Superfluous to the truly great;
Nor yet, to sordid wealth inclin'd,
The poorest passion of the mind;
But, simply fix'd to Nature's plan,
I seek the associate in the man.

"Yet, O beware! for much depends On what that syllable intends.

"Give him a form that may delight
My inward sense, my mental sight;
In ev'ry outward act, design'd
To speak an elegance of mind.

In him, by science, travel, taste, Be nature polish'd, not defac'd; And set, as is the brilliant stone, To be, with double lustre, shown. "Sweet be the music of his tongue, And, as the lyre of David, strung, To steal, from each delighted day, Affliction, care, and time, away.

"Within his comprehensive soul
Let Heaven's harmonious system roll;
There let the great, the good, the wise,
Of fam'd antiquity arise,

From ev'ry age and ev'ry clime,
Eluding death, and circling time!
There let the sacred virtues meet,
And range their known and native seat!
There let the charities unite,

And human feelings weep delight!"

THE SPARROW AND THE DOVE.

It was, as learn'd traditions say,
Upon an April's blithsome day,
When Pleasure, ever on the wing,
Return'd companion of the Spring,
And cheer'd the birds with amorous heat,
Instructing little hearts to beat;
A Sparrow, frolic, gay, and young,
Of bold address and flippant tongue,
Just left his lady of a night,
Like him, to follow new delight.

The youth, of many a conquest vain,
Flew off to seek the chirping train;
The chirping train he quickly found,
And with a saucy ease bow'd round,

For ev'ry she his bosom burns,
And this, and that, he wooes by turns;
And here a sigh, and there a bill,

And here" those eyes, so form'd to kill!"
And now, with ready tongue, he strings
Unmeaning, soft, resistless things;
With vows and demmes skill'd to woo,
As other pretty fellows do.

Not that he thought this short essay
A prologue needful to his play;
No, trust me, says our learned letter,
He knew the virtuous sex much better:
But these he held as specious arts,
To show his own superior parts;
The form of decency to shield,
And give a just pretence to yield.

Thus finishing his courtly play,
He mark'd the favourite of a day;
With careless impudence drew near,
And whisper'd Hebrew in her ear;
A hint, which, like the mason's sign,
The conscious can alone define.

The fluttering nymph, expert at feigning, Cried, Sir-pray, sir, explain your meaningGo, prate to those that may endure yeTo me this rudeness!-I'll assure ye!"Then off she glided, like a swallow, As saying-you guess where to follow. To such as know the party set, 'T is needless to declare they met; The parson's barn, as authors mention, Confess'd the fair had apprehension. Her honour there secure from stain, She held all further trifling vain, No more affected to be coy, But rush'd licentious on the joy.

"Hist, love!"-the male companion cried;

"Retire a while, I fear we 're spy'd."
Nor was the caution vain; he saw
A turtle rustling in the straw,
While o'er her callow brood she hung,
And fondly thus address'd her young.

"Ye tender objects of my care!
Peace, peace, ye little helpless pair!
Anon he comes, your gentle sire,
And brings you all your hearts require.
For us, his infants, and his bride,
For us, with only love to guide,
Our lord assumes an eagle's speed,
And like a lion dares to bleed.
Nor yet by wintry skies confin'd,
He mounts upon the rudest wind;
From danger tears the vital spoil,
And with affection sweetens toil.

Ah cease, too venturous! cease to dare;
In thine, our dearer safety spare!
From him, ye cruel falcons, stray;
And turn, ye fowlers, far away!

"Should I survive to see the day,
That tears me from myself away,
That cancels all that Heav'n could give,
The life by which alone I live;
Alas, how more than lost were I,
Who, in the thought, already die!"

Ye powers, whom men and birds obey,
Great rulers of your creatures, say,
Why mourning comes, by bliss convey'd,
And e'en the sweets of love allay'd?
Where grows enjoyment, tall and fair,
Around it twines entangling care;

While fear for what our souls possess,
Enervates ev'ry pow'r to bless:
Yet friendship forms the bliss above;
And, life! what art thou, without love?
Our hero, who had heard apart,
Felt something moving in his heart;
But quickly, with disdain, suppress'd
The virtue rising in his breast:
And first be feign'd to laugh aloud;
And next, approaching, smil'd and bow'd.
"Madam, you must not think me rude;
Good manners never can intrude.

I vow I come through pure good nature→
Upon my soul, a charming creature!—
Are these the comforts of a wife?
This careful, cloister'd, moaping life?
No doubt, that odious thing, call'd duty,
Is a sweet province for a beauty.
Thou pretty ignorance! thy will
Is measur'd to thy want of skill;

That good old-fashion'd dame, thy mother,
Has taught thy infant years no other-
The greatest ill in the creation,

Is sure the want of education!

"But think ye?-tell me without feigning,
Have all these charms no further meaning?
Dame Nature, if you do n't forget her,
Might teach your ladyship much better.
For shame, reject this mean employment;
Enter the world, and taste enjoyment,
Where time, by circling bliss, we measure;
Beauty was form'd alone for pleasure!
Come, prove the blessing, follow me;
Be wise, be happy, and be free."

"Kind sir," reply'd our matron chaste,
"Your zeal seems pretty much in haste.
I own, the fondness to be bless'd,
Is a deep thirst in ev'ry breast:
Of blessings too I have my store;
Yet quarrel not, should Heav'n give more.
Then prove the change to be expedient,
And think me, sir, your most obedient."
Here turning, as to one inferior,

Our gallant spoke, and smil'd superior.
"Methinks, to quit your boasted station,
Requires a world of hesitation!
Where brats and bonds are held a blessing,
The case, I doubt, is past redressing.
Why, child, suppose the joys I mention
Were the mere fruits of my invention,
You've cause sufficient for your carriage,
In flying from the curse of marriage;
That sly decoy, with vary'd snares,
That takes your widgeons in by pairs;
Alike to husband, and to wife,
The cure of love, and bane of life;
The only method of forecasting,
To make misfortune firm and lasting;
The sin, by Heaven's peculiar sentence,
Unpardon'd, through a life's repentance:
It is the double snake, that weds
A common tail to diff'rent heads,
That lead the carcass still astray,
By dragging each a diff'rent way.
Of all the ills that may attend me,
From marriage, mighty gods, defend me!
"Give me frank Nature's wild demesne,
And boundless tract of air serene,
Where Fancy, ever wing'd for change,
Delights to sport, delights to range.

There, Liberty! to thee is owing Whate'er of bliss is worth bestowing: Delights, still vary'd, and divine, Sweet goddess of the hills! are thine. "What say you now, you pretty pink you? Have I for once spoke reason, think you? You take me now for no romancerCome, never study for an answer; Away, cast ev'ry care behind ye, And fly where joy alone shall find ye." "Soft yet," return'd our female fencer, A question more, or so-and then, sir. You have rally'd me with sense exceeding, With much fine wit, and better breeding: But pray, sir, how do you contrive it? Do those of your world never wive it?" "No, no."-" How then?"-" Why dare I tell? What does the business full as well." "Do you ne'er love?"-"An hour at leisure." "Have you no friendships?"-"Yes, for pleasure." "No care for little ones?"-" We get them; The rest the mothers mind, and let them." "Thou wretch," rejoin'd the kindling Dove, "Quite lost to life, as lost to love! Whene'er misfortune come, how just! And come misfortune surely must; In the dread season of dismay,

In that your hour of trial, say,

Who then shall prop your sinking heart;
Who bear affliction's weightier part?

"Say, when the black-brow'd welkin bends,
And winter's gloomy form impends,
To mourning turns all transient cheer,
And blasts the melancholy year;
For times, at no persuasion, stay,
Nor vice can find perpetual May;
Then where 's that tongue, by folly fed?
That soul of pertness, whither fled?
All shrunk within thy lonely nest,
Forlorn, abandon'd, and unbless'd!
No friends, by cordial bonds ally'd,
Shall seek thy cold unsocial side;
No chirping prattlers, to delight
Shall turn the long-enduring night;
No bride her words of balm impart,
And warm thee at her constant heart.
"Freedom, restrain'd by reason's force,
Is as the Sun's unvarying course,
Benignly active, sweetly bright,
Affording warmth, affording light;
But torn from virtue's sacred rules,
Becomes a comet, gaz'd by fools,
Foreboding cares, and storms, and strife,
And fraught with all the plagues of life.
"Thou fool! by union, every creature
Subsists through universal nature;
And this, to beings void of mind,
Is wedlock of a meaner kind.
"While womb'd in space, primeval clay
A yet unfashion'd embryo lay,
The Source of Endless Good above
Shot down his spark of kindling love:
Touch'd by th' all-enlivening flame,
Then motion first exulting came;
Each atom sought its sep'rate class,
Through many a fair enamour'd mass;
Love cast the central charm around,
And with eternal nuptials bound.
Then form and order, o'er the sky,
First train'd their bridal pomp on high;

The Sun display'd his orb to sight,
And burnt with hymeneal light.

"Hence Nature's virgin-womb conceiv'd,
And with the genial burden heav'd :
Forth came the oak, her first-born heir,
And scal'd the breathing steep of air;
Then infant stems, of various use,
Imbib'd her soft maternal juice;
The flowers, in early bloom disclos'd,
Upon her fragrant breast repos'd;
Within her warm embraces grew,
A race of endless form and hue;
Then pour'd her lesser offspring round,
And fondly cloth'd their parent ground.

"Nor here alone the virtue reign'd,
By matter's cumb'ring form detain'd;
But thence, subliming, and refin'd,
Aspir'd, and reach'd its kindred mind:
Caught in the fond, celestial fire,
The mind perceiv'd unknown desire;
And now with kind effusion flow'd,
And now with cordial ardours glow'd;
Beheld the sympathetic fair,
And lov'd its own resemblance there;
On all with circling radiance shone,
But, cent'ring, fix'd on one alone;
There clasp'd the heaven-appointed wife,
And doubled ev'ry joy of life.

"Here ever blessing, ever bless'd,
Resides this beauty of the breast;
As from his palace, here the god
Still beams effulgent bliss abroad.
Here gems his own eternal round,
The ring by which the world is bound;
Here bids his seat of empire grow,
And builds his little Heav'n below.

"The bridal partners thus ally'd,
And thus in sweet accordance tied,
One body, heart, and spirit live,
Enrich'd by ev'ry joy they give;
Like Echo, from her vocal hold,
Return'd in music twenty fold.
Their union firm, and undecay'd,
Nor time can shake, nor power invade ;
But as the stem and scion stand,
Ingrafted by a skilful hand,
They check the tempest's wintry rage,
And bloom and strengthen into age.
A thousand amities unknown,
And powers perceiv'd by love alone,
Endearing looks, and chaste desire,
Fan and support the mutual fire,
Whose flame, perpetual as refin'd,
Is fed by an immortal mind.

"Nor yet the nuptial sanction ends;
Like Nile it opens, and descends,
Which, by apparent windings led,
We trace to its celestial head:
The sire, first springing from above,
Becomes the source of life and love,
And gives his filial heir to flow,
In fondness down on sons below.
Thus roll'd in one continu'd tide,
To time's extremest verge they glide;
While kindred streams, on either hand,
Branch forth in blessings o'er the land.
"Thee, wretch! no lisping babe shall name,
No late-returning brother claim,
No kinsman on thy road rejoice,

No sister greet thy ent❜ring voice,