Behold the conflicts of the generous steeds,
Sprung from true blood, and well-attested breeds.
There youth may justly with discerning eye
Through riding Amazonian habit spy
That which his swiftest courser cannot fly.

It is no treacherous or base piece of art,
T'approve the side with which the fair takes part:
For equal passion equal minds will strike,
Either in commendation or dislike.

start!

For, when two fencers ready stand to fight,
And we're spectators of the bloody sight,
Our nimble passion, love, has soon design'd
The man, to whom we must and will be kind.
We think the other is not fit to win:
This is our conqueror ere fight begin.
If danger dares approach him, how we
Our frighted blood runs trembling to our heart:
He takes the wounds, but we endure the smart.
And Nature by such instances does prove,
That we fear most for that which most we love.
Therefore, if chance should make her saddle slide,
Or any thing should slip, or be untied,
Oh, think it not a too officious care
With eagerness to run and help the fair,
We offer small things to the powers above:
'Tis not our merit that obtains their love.
So when Eliza, whose propitious days
Revolving Heaven does seem again to raise ;
Whose ruling genius show'd a master-stroke
In every thing she did, and all she spoke;
Was stepping o'er a passage, which the rain
Had fill'd, and seem'd as stepping back again;
Young Raleigh scorn'd to see his queen retreat,
And threw his velvet-cloak beneath her feet.
The queen approv'd the thought, and made him
great 6.

Mark when the queen her thanks divine would
give

Midst acclamations, that she long may live;
To whom kind Heaven the blessing has bestow'd,
To let her arms succeed for Europe's good;
No tyranny throughout the triumph reigns,
Nor are the captives dragg'd with ponderous chains;
But all declare the British subjects' ease,
And that their war is for their neighbours' peace.
Then, whilst the pomp of majesty proceeds
With stately steps, and eight well-chosen steeds,
From every palace beauties may be seen,
That will acknowledge none but her for queen.
Then, if kind Chance a lovely maid has thrown
Next to a youth with graces like her own,
Much she would learn, and many questions ask;
The answers are the lover's pleasing task.
"Is that the man who made the French to flv?
What place is Blenheim? is the Danube nigh?
Where was 't that he with sword victorious stood,
And made their trembling squadrons choose the
flood?

What is the gold adorns this roval state?
Is it not hammer'd all from Vigo's plate?
Don't it require a most prodigious care
To manage treasures in the height of war?
Must he not be of calmest truth possest,
Presides o'er councils of the royal breast?
Sea-fights are surely dismal scenes of war!
Pray, sir, were ever you at Gibraltar?

6 Sir Walter Raleigh is well known to have been indebted to this little mark of gallantry for his rise at court. N.

Has not the emperor got some envoy here?
Wo'n't Danish, Swedish, Prussian lords appear?
Who represents the line of Hanover?
Don't the states general assist them all?
Should we not be in danger, if they fall?
If Savoy's duke and prince Eugene could incet
In this solemnity, 'twould be complete.
Think you that Barcelona could have stood
Without the hazard of our noblest blood?
At Ramilies what ensigns did you get?
Did many towns in Flanders then submit?
Was it the conqueror's business to destroy,
Or was he met by all of them with joy?
Oh, could my wish but fame eternal give,
The laurel on those brows should ever live!"
The British worth in nothing need despair,
When it has such assistance from the fair.
As Virtue merits, it expects regard;
And Valour flies, where Beauty's the reward.

PART II.

IN love-affairs the theatre has part,
That wise and most instructing scene of art,
Where Vice is punish'd with a just reward,
And Virtue meets with suitable regard;
Where mutual Love and Friendship find return,
But treacherous Insolence is hiss'd with scorn,
And Love's unlawful wiles in torment burn.
This without blushes whilst a virgin sees,
Upon some brave spectator Love may seize,
Who, till she sends it, never can have ease.

As things that were the best at first
By their corruption grow the worst;
The modern stage takes liberties
Unseen by our forefathers' eyes.
As bees from hive, from mole-bill ants;
So swarm the females and gallants,
All crowding to the comedy,
For to be seen, and not to see.
But, though these females are to blame,
Yef still they have some native shame:
They all are silent till they're ask'd;
And ev'n their impudence is mask'd:
For Nature would be modest still,
And there's reluctancy in will.

Sporting and plays had harmless been,
And might by any one be seen,

Till Romulus began to spoil them,
Who kept a palace, call'd Asylum;

Where bastards, pimps, and thieves, and pandars,
Were listed all to be commanders.

But then the rascals were so poor,
They could not change a rogue for whore;
And neighbouring jades resolv'd to tarry,
Rather than with such scrubs they'd marry.
But, for to cheat them, and be wiv'd,
They knavishly a farce contriv'd.
No gilded pillars there were seen,
Nor was the cloth they trod on green.
No ghosts came from the cellar crying,
Nor angels from the garret flying.
The house was made of sticks and bushes,
And all the floor was strew'd with rushes:
The seats were raised with turf and sods,
Whence heroes might be view'd, and gods.
Paris and Helen was the play,
And how both of them ran away.

Romulus bade his varlets go
Invite the Sabines to his show.
Unto this opera no rate is:

They all were free to come in gratis :
And they, as girls will seldom iniss
A merry meeting, came to this.

There was much wishing, sighing, thinking,
Not without whispering, and winking.
Their pipes had then no shaking touch:
Their song and dance were like the Dutch:
The whole performance was by men,
Because they had no eunuchs then.
But, whilst the music briskly play'd,
Romulus at his cue display'd

The sign for each man to his maid.
"Huzza!" they cry; then seize: some tremble
In real fact, though most dissemble.
Some are attempting an escape,
And others softly cry, "A rape !"

Whilst some bawl out, "That they had rather
Than twenty pound lose an old father."
Some look extremely pale, and others red,
Some wish they'd ne'er been born, or now were dead,
And others fairly wish themselves a-bed.

Some rant, tear, run; whilst some sit still,
To show they're ravish'd much against their will.
Thus Rome began; and now at last,
After so many ages past,

Their rapes and lewdness without shame;
Their vice and villany's the same.

Ill be their fate who would corrupt the stage,
And spoil the true corrector of the age!

PART III.

Now learn those arts which teach you to obtain Those beauties which you see divinely reign.

Though they by Nature are transcendent bright, And would be seen ev'n through the gloom of night; Yet they their greatest lustre still display, In the meridian pitch of calmest day. 'Tis then we purple view, and costly gem, And with more admiration gaze on them.

Faults seck the dark; they who by moon-light woo, May find their fair-one as inconstant too.

When Modesty supported is by Truth, There is a boldness that becomes your youth. In gentle sounds disclose a lover's care, 'Tis better than your sighing and despair. Birds may abhor their groves, the flocks the plain, The hare, grown bold, may face the dogs again, When Beauty don't in Virtue's arms rejoice, Since harmony in love is Nature's voice. But harden'd Impudence sometimes will try At things which Justice cannot but deny. Then, what that says is insolence and pride, Is Prudence, with firm Honour for its guide. The lady's counsels often are betray'd By trusting s crets to a servile maid, The whole intrigues of whose insidious brain Are base, and only terminate in gain. Let them take care of too diffusive mirth; Suspicions thence, and thence attempts, take Had liium been with gravity employ'd, By Sinon's craft it had not been destroy'd. Á vulgar air, mean songs, and free discourse, With sly insinuations, may prove worse To tender females than the Trojan horse.

[birth.

Take care how you from virtue stray;
For scandal follows the same way,
And more than truth it will devise.
Old poets did delight in lies,
Which modern ones now call surprise.
Some say that Myrrha lov'd her father,
That Byblis lik'd her brother rather.
And in such tales old Greece did glory:
Amongst the which, pray take this story.

Crete was an isle, whose fruitful nations
Swarm'd with an hundred corporations,
And there upon Mount Ida stood
A venerable spacious wood,
Within whose centre was a grove
Immortaliz'd by birth of Jove:
In vales below a bull was fed,
Whom all the kine obey'd as head;
Betwixt his horns a tuft of black did grow,
But all the rest of him was driven snow.
(Our tale to truth does not confine us.)
At the same time one justice Minos,
That liv'd hard-by, was married lately;
And, that his bride might show more stately,
When through her pedigree he run,
Found she was daughter to the Sun.
Her name Pasiphaë was hight,
And, as her father, she was bright.
This lady took up an odd fancy,

That with his bull she fain would dance ye.
She'd mow him grass, and cut down boughs,
On which his stateliness might browse.
Whilst thus she hedges breaks and climbs,
Sure Minos must have happy times!
She never car'd for going fine,
She'd rather trudge among the kine.
Then at her toilet she would say,

"Methinks I look bizarre to day.
Sure my glass lies, I'm not so fair:
Oh, were this face o'ergrown with hair!
I never was for top-knots born;
My favourites should each be horn.
But now I'm liker to a sow
Than, what I wish to be, a cow→
What would I give that I could lough!
My bull-y cares for none of those
That are afraid to spoil their clothes:
Did he but love me, he'd not fail
To take me with my draggle-tail."

Then tears would fall, and then she'd
run,

As would the Devil upon Dun.
When she some handsome cow did spy,
She'd scan her form with jealous eye;
Say, "How she frisks it o'er the plain,
Runs on, and then turns back again!
She seems a bear resolv'd to prance,
Or a she-ass that tries to dance.
In vain she thinks herself so fine:
She can't please bull-y, for he's mine.
But 'tis revenge alone assuages
My envy when the passion rages.
Here, rascal, quickly yoke that cow,
And see the shrivel'd carrion plough.
But second counsel's best: she dies:
I'll make immediate sacrifice,

And with the victim feast my eyes.
'Tis thus my rivals I'll remove
Who interpose 'twixt me and what I love.
Io in Egypt's worship'd now,

Since Jove transform'd her to a cow,

'Twas on a bull Europa came

To that blest land which bears her name.

Who knows what fate's ordain'd for me

The languishing Pasiphaë,

Had I a bull as kind as she !"

When madness rages with unusual fire, 'Tis not in Nature's power to quench desire; Then vice transforms man's reason into beast, And so the monster's made the poet's jest.

PART IV.

LET youth avoid the noxious heat of wine:
Bacchus to Cupid bears an ill design.
The grape, when scattered on the wings of Love,
So clogs the down, the feathers cannot move.
The boy, who otherwise would fleeting stray,
Reels, tumbles, lies, and is enforc'd to stay.
Then courage rises, when the spirit's fir'd,
And rages to possess the thing desir'd:
Care vanishes through the exalted blood,
And sorrow passes in the purple flood;
Laughter proceeds; nor can he want a soul,
Whose thoughts in fancied heaps of plenty roll.
Uncommon freedom lets the lips impart
Plain simple truth from a dissembling heart.
Then to some wanton passion he must run,
Which his discreeter hours would gladly sbun;
Where he the time in thoughtless ease may pass,
And write his billet-dour upon the glass;
Whilst sinking eyes with languishment profess
Follies his tongue refuses to confess.
Then his good-nature will take t'other sup,
If she'll first kiss, that he may kiss the cup.
Then something nice and costly he could eat,
Supposing still that she will carve the meat.
But, if a brother or a husband's by,
Whom the ill-natur'd world may call a spy,
He thinks it not below him to pretend
The open-heartedness of a true friend;
Gives him respect surpassing his degree:
The person that is meant by all is she.

'Tis thought the safest way to hide a passion,

And therefore call'd the friendship now in fashion.
By secret signs and enigmatic stealth,
She is the toast belongs to every health:
And all the lover's business is to keep

His thoughts from anger, and his eyes from sleep :
He'll laugh ye, dance ye, sing ye, vault, look gay,
And ruffle all the ladies in his play.
But still the gentleman's extremely fine;
There's nothing apish in him but the wine.

Many a mortal has been bit
By marrying in the drunken fit.
To lay the matter plain before ye,
Pray hearken whilst I tell my story.
It happen'd about break of day
Gnossis a girl, had lost her way,
And wander'd up and down the Strand,
Whereabouts now York Buildings stand:
And half-awak'd she roar'd as bad
As if she really had been mad;
Unlac'd her boddice, and her gown
And petticoats hung dangling down:
Her shoes were slipt, her ancles bare,
And all around her flew her yellow hair.
"Ob, cruel Theseus! can you go,
And leave your little Gnossis so?

You in your scull did promise carriage,
And gave me proofs of future marriage;
But then last night away did creep,
And basely left me fast asleep."
Then she is falling in a fit:
But don't grow uglier one bit.
The flood of tears rather supplies
The native rheum about her eyes.
The bubbies then are beat again :
Women in passion feel no pain.
"What will become of me? oh, what
Will come of me? oh, tell me that!"
Bacco was drawer at the Sun,
And had his belly like his tun:
For blubber-lips and checks all bloated,
And frizzled pate, the youth was note.
He, as his custom was, got drunk,
And then went strolling for a punk.
Six links and lanterns, 'cause 'twas dark yet,
He press'd from Covent-Garden market:
Then his next captives were the waits,
Who play'd lest he should break their pates.
But, as along in state he passes,
He met a fellow driving asses:

For there are several folks, whose trade is
To milk them for consumptive ladies.
Nothing would serve but get astride,
And the old bell-man too must ride.
What with their hooting shouting yell,
The scene had something in't of Hell.
And who should all this rabble meet,
But Gnossy, drabbling in the street?
The fright destroy'd her speech and colour,
And all remembrance of her sculler.
Her conduct thrice bade her be flying:
Her fears thrice hinder'd her from trying..
Like bullrushes on side of brook,
Or aspin leaves, her joints all shook.
Bacco cry'd out, "I'm come, my dear;
I'll soon disperse all thoughts of fear:
Nothing but joys shall revel here."
Then, hugging her in brawny arm,
Protested," She should have no harm:
But rather would assure her, he
Rejoic'd in opportunity

Of meeting such a one as she:
And that, encircled all around

With glass and candles many a pound,
She should with bells command the bar,
And call her rooms Sun, Moon, and Star:
That the good company were met,
And should not want a wedding-treat."
In short, they married, and both made ye,
He a free landlord, she a kind landlady.
The Spartan lords their villains would invite
To an excess of drink in children's sight:
The parent thus their innocence would save,
And to the load of wine condemn the slave,

PART V.

THE season must be mark'd for nice address: A grant ill-tim'd will make the favour less. Not the wise gardener more discretion needs To manage tender plants and hopeful seeds, To know when rain, when warmth, must guard his flowers, [hours.

Than lovers do to watch their most auspicious

For, as the Earth in various birth abounds,
Their humour dances in fantastic rounds;
Like Proteus, can be lion, river, bear,

A tree, or any thing that's fram'd of air.
Thus they lay snares, thus they set off their bait
With all the fine allurements of deceit.

But they, who through this course of mischief

run,

Will find that fraud is various, virtue one.

Achilles, a gigantic boy,

Was wanted at the siege of Troy:
His country's danger did require him,
And all the generals did desire him:

For Discord, you must know, had thrown
An apple where 'twas two to one;
But, if a stir was made about it,
Two of the three must go without it:
And so it was; for Paris gave it
To Venus, who resolv'd to have it.
(The story here would be too long:
But you may find it in the song.)
Venus, although not over-virtuous,
Yet still designing to be courteous,
Resolved to procure the varlet
A flaming and triumphant harlot ;
First stol'n by one she would not stay with,
Then married to be run away with.
Her Paris carried to his mother;
And thence in Greece arose that pother,
Of which old Homer, Virgil, Dante,
And Chaucer, makes us such a cant.

It was a just and noble cause,
The breach of hospitable laws:
Though done to one, yet common grief
Made all unite to seek relief.

But, when they sought the country round,
There's no Achilles could be found.

His mother was afraid t' have lost him,
And therefore thus she did accost him:
"My pretty dear, let me persuade ye
This once for to become a lady.
This petticoat and mantua take,
And wear this nightrail for my sake.
I've made your knots all of the smallest,
Because you're something of the tallest.
I'd have you never go unlac'd,
For fear of spoiling of your waist.
Now languish on me-scorn me now-
Smile-frown-run-laugh-1 sec 'twill do.
You'd perfect all you now begin,
Only for poking out your chin."

Him thus instructed soon she sends
To Lycomede, and there pretends
It was a daughter of a friend's,
Who, grown full large by country feeding,
Was sent to her, to mend her breeding.
Herself had now no child, nor no man
To trust but him, poor lonely woman!
That might reward him well hereafter,
If he would use her as his daughter.
In choice of names, as Iris, Chloe,
Psyche and Phillis, she took Zoe.
Th' old man receiv'd her, and exprest
Much kindness for his topping guest:
Show'd her his girls; said, Whilst she'd stay,
His Zoe should be us'd as they."
At first there much reserv'dness past:
But, when acquaintance grew at last,
They'd jest, and every one would show
Her works, which she could never do.

One said, her fingers were most fitting
For the most fiddling work of knitting.
Then one her wedding-bed would make,
And all must help her for love's sake.
Zoe, undrest in night-gown tawdry,
With clumsy fist must work embroidery;
Whilst others try her greasy clunches
With stoning currants in whole bunches.
But there was one, call'd Dedamy,
Mistrusted something by the by,
And, sighing, thus one night she said,
"Why, Zoe may n't we go to bed?"
"Soon as you please, good mistress Ded."

The fleeting months soon roll about;
Time came when murder all must out.
Zoe, for fear of the old man,
Into the army quickly ran;
And sav'd the slitting of his nose,
By timely changing of her clothes.

Thus, whilst we Glory's dictates shun,
Into the snares of Vice we run;
And he that should his country serve,
And beauty by his worth deserve,
In female softness wanton stays,
And what he should adore betrays.

PART VI.

BUT now, O happy youth, thy prize is found,
And all thy wishes with success are crown'd.
Not Io Paans, when Apollo's prais'd;
Not trophies to victorious Grecians rais'd;
Not acclamations of exalted Rome,
To welcome peace with her Augustus home;
Can more delight a brave and generous mind,
Than it must you to see a beauty kind:
The bays to me with gratitude you'll give,
Like Hesiod and like Homer make me live.
Thus Pelops on triumphant chariot brought
Hippodamy, with his life's danger bought.
Thus prosperous Jason, rich with golden fleece,
On Argo's vocal timber sail'd to Greece.

But stay, fond youth; the danger is not past:
You're not arriv'd in port, nor anchor cast.
From you my heart may still more bays deserve,
If what by me you gain'd, by me you shall pre-
Nor than the conquest is the glory less, [serve,
To fix the throne on that which you possess.
Now, Erato, divinest, softest Muse,
Whose name and office both do love infuse,
Assist my great design: if Venus' son,
That vagabond, would from his mother run,
And then, with soaring wings and body light,
Through the vast world's extent would take his

flight;

By artful bonds let me secure his stay,
And make his universal power obey.

Whilst I my art would thus improve,
And fondly thought to shackle Love,
Two neighbours that were standing by,
Tormented both with jealousy,
Told me it was in vain to try.
When one began his tale, as thus:

Perhaps you've heard of Daedalus, When Minos would have made him stay, How through the clouds he found his way. He was a workman wise and good, Building was what he understood.