Medusa's snakes, with Pallas' crest,
Convolv'd, contorted, and compress'd;
With intermingling trees, and flow'rs,

And corn, and grass, and shepherds' bow'rs,
Stage above stage the turrets run,
Like pendent groves of Babylon,
Till nodding from the topmost wall
Otranto's plumes envelope all!

While the black ewes, who own'd the hair,
Feed harmless or, in pastures fair,
Unconscious that their tails perfume,
In scented curls, the drawing-room.

When Night her murky pinions spread,
And sober folks retire to bed,
To ev'ry public place they flew,
Where Jenny told them who was who.
Money was always at command,

And tripp'd with pleasure hand in hand.
Money was equipage, was show,
Gallini's, Almack's, and Soho;
The passe par tout through ev'ry vein
Of dissipation's hydra reign.
O London, thou prolific source,
Parent of vice, and folly's nurse!
Fruitful as Nile thy copious springs

Spawn hourly births,-and all with stings:
But happiest far the he, or she,

I know not which, that livelier dunce
Who first contriv'd the coterie,

To crush domestic bliss at once.
Then grinn'd, no doubt, amidst the dames,
As Nero fiddled to the flames.

Of thee, Pantheon, let me speak
With rev'rence, though in numbers weak;
Thy beauties satire's frown beguile,
We spare the follies for the pile.
Flounc'd, furbelow'd, and trick'd for show,
With lamps above, and lamps below,
Thy charms e'en modern taste defy'd,
They could not spoil thee, though they try'd.
Ali, pity that Time's hasty wings
Must sweep thee off with vulgar things!
Let architects of humbler name
On frail materials build their fame,
Their noblest works the world might want,
Wyatt should build in adamant.

But what are these to scenes which lie
Secreted from the vulgar eye,
And baffle all the pow'rs of song?-
A brazen throat, an iron tongue,
(Which poets wish for, when at length
Their subject soars above their strength)
Would shun the task. Our humbler Muse,
(Who only reads the public news,
And idly utters what she gleans
From chronicles and magazines)
Recoiling feels her feeble fires,
And blushing to her shades retires.
Alas! she knows not how to treat
The finer follies of the great,

Where ev'n, Democritus, thy sneer
Were vain as Heraclitus' tear.

Suffice it that by just degrees

They reach'd all heights, and rose with ease;
(For beauty wins its way, uncall'd,
And ready dupes are ne'er black-ball'd.)
Each gambling dame she knew, and he
Knew every shark of quality;

From the grave, cautious few, who live
On thoughtless youth, and living thrive,

To the light train who mimic France,
And the soft sons of nonchalance.
While Jenny, now no more of use,
Excuse succeeding to excuse,
Grew piqued, and prudently withdrew
To shilling whist, and chicken lu.

Advanc'd to fashion's wav'ring head,
They now, where once they follow'd, led.
Devis'd new systems of delight,
A-bed all day, and up all night,
In diff'rent circles reign'd supreme.
Wives copied her, and husbands him;
Till so divinely life ran on,

So separate, so quite bon-ton,
That meeting in a public place,
They scarcely knew each other's face.
At last they met, by his desire,

A téte à tête across the fire;
Look'd in each other's face awhile,
With half a tear, and half a smile.

The ruddy health, which wont to grace
With manly glow his rural face,
Now scarce retain'd its faintest streak;
So sallow was his leathern cheek.
She lank, and pale, and hollow-ey'd,
With rouge had striven in vain to hide
What once was beauty, and repair
The rapine of the midnight air.

Silence is eloquence, 't is said.
Both wish'd to speak, both hung the head.
At length it burst.- -" "Tis time," he cries,
"When tir'd of folly, to be wise.

Are you too tir'd ?"—then check'd a groan,
She wept consent, and he went on.

"How delicate the married life!
You love your husband, I my wife.
Not ev'n satiety could tame,
Nor dissipation quench the flame.

"True to the bias of our kind
'Tis happiness we wish to find.
In rural scenes retir'd we sought
In vain the dear, delicious draught,
Though blest with love's indulgent store,
We found we wanted something more.
T was company, 't was friends to share
The bliss we languish'd to declare.
'T was social converse, change of scene,
To soothe the sullen hour of spleen;
Short absences to wake desire,

And sweet regrets to fan the fire.

"We left the lonesome place; and found,

In dissipation's giddy round,

A thousand novelties to wake

The springs of life and not to break.
As, from the nest not wand'ring far,
In light excursions through the air,
The feather'd tenants of the grove
Around in mazy circles move,

(Sip the cool springs that murm'ring flow,
Or taste the blossom on the bough)
We sported freely with the rest;
And, still returning to the nest,
In easy mirth we chatted o'er
The trifles of the day before.

"Behold us now, dissolving quite
In the full ocean of delight;
In pleasures ev'ry hour employ,
Immers'd in all the world calls joy;
Our affluence easing the expense
Of splendour, and magnificence;

Our company, the exalted set

Of all that's gay, and all that's great:
Nor happy yet!-and where 's the wonder !-
We live, my dear, too much asunder."

The moral of my tale is this,
Variety 's the soul of bliss.
But such variety alone

As makes our home the more our own.
As from the heart's impelling pow'r
The life-blood pours its genial store;
Though, taking each a various way,
The active streams meandring play
Through ev'ry artery, ev'ry vein,
All to the heart return again;

From thence resume their new career,
But still return, and centre there:
So real happiness below

Must from the heart sincerely flow;
Nor, list'ning to the syren's song,
Must stray too far, or rest too long.
All human pleasures thither tend;
Must there begin, and there must end;
Must there recruit their languid force,
And gain fresh vigour from their source.

THE GOAT'S BEARD.

A FABLE.

Propria quæ maribus

Fœmineo generi tribuuntur.

CAPELLE ET HIRCI.

In eight terse lines has Phædrus told
(So frugal were the bards of old)
A tale of goats; and clos'd with grace,
Plan, moral, all, in that short space.

Alas! that ancient moralist
Knew nothing of the slender twist
Which Italy, and France, have taught,
To later times to spin the thought.
They are our masters now, and we
Obsequious to their high decree,
Whate'er the classic critics say,
Will tell it in a modern way.

'Twas somewhere on the hills which lie
"Twixt Rome and Naples' softer clime,
(They can't escape the traveller's eye,

Nor need their names be told in rhyme)
A herd of goats, each shining morn,
Midst scraggy myrtle, pointed thorn,
Quick glancing to the Sun display'd
Their spotted sides, and pierc'd the shade:
Their goatherds still, like those of old,
Pipe to the stragglers of the fold.

'Twas there-and there (no matter when)
With Virgil's leave, we place the scene.
For scarcely can we think his swains
Dealt much in goats on Mantua's plains;
Much less could e'er his shepherds dream
Of pendent rocks on Mincio's stream.
From Naples his enliven'd thought
Its fondest, best ideas caught.
Theocritus perhaps beside
Some kind embellishments supply'd,
And poets are not common men-
Who talks of goats in Ely fen!

"T was there, on one important day,
It chanc'd the he-goats were away,
The ladies of the colony

Had form'd a female coterie;
And, as they browz'd the cliffs among,
Exerted all their power of tongue.
Of ease and freedom much they spoke,
Enfranchis'd from the husband's yoke;
How bright the Sun, how soft the air,
The trefoil flowers were sweeter far,
While thus alone they might debate
The hardships of the married state.

Encourag'd by the quick'ning flame
Which spread, and caught from dame to dame,
matron, sager than the rest,

The fair enthusiasts thus address'd:
"Ladies, I joy to see, what I
Have felt, and smother'd with a sigh,
Should touch at length the general breast,
And honest nature stand confest.
Queens as we are, we see our power
Usurp'd, and daily sinking lower.
Why do our lords and masters reign
Sole monarchs o'er their subject train?
What stamp has Nature given their line,
What mark to prove their right divine
To lead at will the passive herd?
-It can be nothing but their beard.

"Observe our shapes, our winning airs,
Our spots more elegant than theirs;
With equal ease, with equal speed
We swim the brook, or skim the mead;
Climb the tall cliff, where wild thyme grows,
On pinnacles undaunted browze,
Hang fearless o'er th' impetuous stream,
And skip from crag to crag like them.
Why are they then to us preferr'd?

"Then let us to great Jove prepare A sacrifice and solemn prayer,

That he would graciously relieve Our deep distress, and kindly give The all we want, to make us shine Joint empresses by right divine."

A general murmur of applause
Attends the speech. The common cause
Glows in each breast, and all defy
The bonds of Salique tyranny.
The mild, the timorous grow bold;
And, as they saunter to the fold,
Ev'n kids, with voices scarcely heard,

Lisp out," "T is nothing but the beard."
Agreed. And now with secret care
The due lustrations they prepare:
And having mark'd a sacred field,
Of horns a spacious altar build;
Then from the fragrant herbs that grow,
On craggy cliff, or mountain's brow,
They cull the sweets: and stuff the pile
With tragopogon's' downy spoil,
And gums of tragacanth to raise
The bickering flame, and speed the blaze.
But chief the flower beyond compare,
The flaunting woodbine 3 revell'd there,
Sacred to goats; and bore their name
Till botanists of modern fame
New-fangled titles chose to give
To almost all the plants that live.
Of these a hallow'd heap they place
With all the skill of female grace;
Then spread the sprigs to catch the air,
And light them with the brushy hair
Pluck'd slily from their husbands' chins,
In seeming sport, when love begins.

"Hear, father Jove! if still thy mind
With partial fondness views our kind;
If, nurs'd by goats, as story says,
Thou still retain'st their gamesome ways;
If on thy shield 4 her skin appears
Who fed with milk thy infant years;
If Capricorn advanc'd by thee
Shines in a sphere a deity, &c. &c.
Hear, father Jove, our just request;
O grant us beards, and make us blest !"
Swift mounts the blaze, the scented sky
Seems pleas'd, the Zephyrs gently sigh,
And Jove himself, in frolic mood,
Reclining on an amber cloud,

Snuff'd in the gale; and, though he hides
A laugh which almost bursts his sides,
Smil'd gracious on the suppliant crew;
And from the left his thunder flew :
Blest omen of success! Ye fair,
Who know what tyrant spouses are,
If e'er you slipt the tighten'd rein,
Or gave a surly husband pain,

Guess at their joy.-Devoutly low

They bent, and with prophetic glow

And scarce admitted the embrace
But merely to preserve the race.

But chief the river banks they throng;
Narcissus-like o'er fountains hung,
And not a puddle could they pass
Without a squint to view their face,
Happy to see the sprouts arise
Which promis'd future dignities.

When lo! their utmost wish prevails.
A beard, as graceful as the male's,

Flows from their chins; and forth they mov'd
At once to be rever'd and lov'd;
Looking (to borrow a quaint phrase
From Young, to deck our humbler lays)
"Delightfully with all their might."
The he-goats started at the sight.
"Angels and ministers of grace!"
Appear'd on theirs, like Garrick's face.
Glance after glance oblique they sent,
Then fix'd in dumb astonishment.
Scarce more amaz'd did Atlas" stand,
Sole monarch of the Hesperian strand,
When Perseus on his shield display'd
Terrific charms, the Gorgon's head.

At last recovering their surprise,
For goats, like men, are sometimes wise,
On this absurd, new-modell'd plan,
Like human couples, they began,
Unwilling, for decorum's sake,
Quite to unite, or quite to break.

With short half words, and looks that leer'd,
They frown'd, they pouted, and they sneer'd.
In general terms express'd their thoughts
On private and peculiar faults;

Dropp'd hints they scarcely wish'd to smother,
And talk'd not to but at each other.
Till strife engend'ring more and more,
They downright wrangled, if not swore;
And ev'n the fair could scarce refrain

From broad expressions, when they saw
Th' accomplishments they wish'd to gain,
Created not respect but awe;
And softer kids usurp'd the flames
Due only to experienc'd dames.

'Twas then the general discord rose;
And Jove, (industrious to compose
The casual feuds his hasty nod
Had caus'd) well worthy such a god,
Conven'd the states. And though he knew
What mortals say is really true,
"Advice is sometimes thrown away,"
He bade them meet, and fix'd the day.
Each conscious of their claim, divide

In separate bands on either side.
Like clients in a party cause,

Determin'd to succeed or die,

(Whate'er their judge may talk of laws) Stanch martyrs to integrity.

With skittish coyness met the males,

' A plant called, in English, the goat's beard. a The goat's thorn. The gums of this plant are used in medicine.

3 The caprifolium, or goat's leaf of the ancients and of Tournefort. Linnæus ranks it under the genus of lonicera, as he does the tragacinth under that of astragalus.

The ægis, called so from the goat's skin which covers it.

Not as the arbiter of fate,
With all those ensigns of command
Which sway the air, the sea, the land,
But yet with dignity, to draw
Attention, and becoming awe.
"Approach!" he cry'd, "your idle strife
Has rais'd a thought: I'll give it life.

s In the character of Hamlet.

• Ovid's Metamorphoses. Book iv. Fab. 15.

For know, ye goats, my high behests
Shall not be thrown away on beasts.
When sexes plead, the cause is common;
Be goats no more, but man and woman."
The change ensues. He smil'd again,
And thus address'd the motley train.-
(Here might we tell, in Ovid's lay,
How forms to other forms gave way,
How pert-cock'd tails, and shaggy hides,
And horns, and twenty things besides,
Grew spruce bag-wigs, or well-queu'd hair,
The floating sack, the pet-en-l'air,
Fur gown, gold chain, or regal robe,
Which rules, in ermin'd state, the globe.
We wave all this, and say again,
He thus address'd the motley train.)
"When first I different sexes form'd,
Happy myself, with goodness warm'd,
I meant you helpmates for each other;
The ties of father, son, and brother,
And all the charities below

I kindly meant should spring from you.
Were more exalted scenes your lot,
I kindly meant, as who would not?
The fair should soothe the hero's care,
The hero should protect the fair;
The statesman's toils a respite find
In pleasures of domestic kind;
And kings themselves in social down
Forget the thorns which line a crown.

"In humbler life, that man should roam Busy abroad, while she at home, Impatient for his dear return,

Should bid the crackling incense burn,
And spread, as fortune might afford,
The genial feast, or frugal board.
The joys of honest competence,
The solace even of indigence.

"But things are chang'd, no matter how ;
These blessings are not frequent now.
Let Time account, as he glides on,
For all his wings and scythe have done :
We take you in his present page,
The refuse of an iron age.
Then hear our sober thoughts.

Ye dames,

Affection and good-breeding claims
That first, in preference to the males,
We place your merits in the scales.
For, whether 't was design'd or not,
You some ascendancy have got.
Ladies, we own, have had their share
In learning, politics, and war.
To pass at once the doubtful tale
Of Amazons in coats of mail,
(Fables which ancient Greece has taught,
And, if I knew them, I've forgot.)
Authentic records still contain,
To make the females justly vain,
Examples of heroic worth-
Semiramis of East and North .

7 The wife of Ninus.

• Margaret de Waldemar, commonly called the Semiramis of the North. She united in her own person the three kingdoms of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. The first by descent, the second by marriage, and the third by conquest. See the union of Calmar, 1393.

Margret the Anjouvine 9; of Spain
Fair Blanche 10; and Ellen of Guienne ".
Catherine of France 12 immortal grew
A rubric saint with Barthol'mew:
In Russia, Catherines more than one
Have done great things: and many a Joan
Has bustled in the active scene;

13

The pope 15, the warrior, and the queen!
But these are stars which blaze and fall;
O'er Albion did Eliza rise

A constellation of them all,

And shines the Virgo of the skies!
Some dames of less athletic mould 14,
By mere misfortune render'd bold,
Have drawn the dagger in defence
Of their own spotless innocence.
O'er these the pensive Muse shall mourn,
And pity's tear shall grace their urn.
Others is, a more heroic part,

By just revenge to fury led,
Have plung'd it in a husband's heart,

And triumph'd o'er the mighty dead.
Though laurels are their meed, 't is true,
Let milder females have their due,
And be with humbler myrtles crown'd,
Who suck'd the poison 16 from the wound.
For folks there are who do n't admire
In angel forms that soul of fire,
Nor are quite pleas'd with wounds and scars
On limbs best fram'd for softer wars.
Nay now, so squeamish men are grown,
Their manners are so like your own,
That, though no Spartan dames we view

Thump'd, cuff'd, and wrestled black and blue,
Ev'n slighter blemishes offend

Sometimes the fair-one's fondest friend.
Glorious, no doubt, it is, to dare
The dangers of the Sylvan war,

When foremost in the chase you ride
Some headlong steed you cannot guide,

9 Wife of Henry the Sixth of England, who (notwithstanding her supposed intrigue with the duke of Suffolk) supported the interest of her husband and his family with the most heroic spirit.

10 Blanche of Castile, wife to Louis the Eighth of France. She governed that kingdom during the minority of her son, St. Louis, and during his absence at the holy wars, with great fortitude and success. The wicked chronicles of the times have been very free with her character.

11 An adventurer in the crusades. She was first married to Louis the Seventh of France, by whom she was divorced, under a pretence of consanguinity; and was afterwards wife to Henry the Second of England. Her behaviour here is well known.

12 The famous Catherine of Medicis, wife to Henry the Second of France, and mother to the three succeeding monarchs. The massacre of Paris, on St. Bartholomew's day, was conducted under her auspices.

19 Pope Joan, Joan of Arc, and Joan of Naples. 14 15 Of these two assertions the author does not choose to give examples, as some might be thought fabulous, and others invidious.

16 Whether the story of Eleanor of Castile, wife to Edward the First of England, is fictitious or not, the Eleanor crosses existing at present are a sufficient testimony of her husband's affections, and his gratitude to her memory.

And owe, by Providence, or chance,
Your safety to your ignorance.
But ah! the consequential ill
Might there restrain ev'n woman's will.
The furrow plough'd by Tyburn hat '7
On the fair forehead's Parian flat;

The freckles, bloches, and parch'd skins,
The worms, which like black-headed pins
Peep through the damask cheek, or rise
On noses bloated out of size,

Are things which females ought to dread.-
But you know best, and I proceed.

"Some sages, a peculiar thonght,
Think politics become you not.
Nay one, well vers'd in Nature's rules,
Calls cunning women 18 knavish fools.'
-Your pardon-I but barely hint
What impious mortals dare to print.

"In learning, doubtless, you have shin'd The paragons of human kind.

Each abstract science have explor'd;
Have pierc'd through Nature's coyest hoard;
And cropp'd the loveliest lovers that grow
On steep Parnassus' double brow.

"And yet what small remains we find!
Aspasia 19 left no tracts behind;
Content her doctrines to impart,
As oral truths, warm from the heart.
And ill-bred Time has swept away
Full mauy a grave and sprightly lay,
Full many a tome of just renown
Fram'd by the numerous fair who shone
Poetic or historic queens,

From Sappho down to Anne Comnenes 20.

"In modern days, the female pen
Is paramount, and copes with men.
Ladies have led th' instructive crew,
And kindly told us all they knew.
In France, in Britain, many a score.-
I mention none-but praise the more.
And yet in that same little isle
I view, with a peculiar smile,
And wish to name a chosen few :
A--

-, or a

Or-But I won't. It envy raises.
Few men can bear each other's praises,
And in the fair-one would not see
A genus irritabile.

"Swift says, a clever school-boy's fame
Is all at which the sex should aim.
It may be so, and he be wise-

But I authorities despise.
Men cannot judge in such affairs.
I grant your talents great as theirs.

17 The small round hat, which acquired its name from its being the distinguishing mark of a pickpocket: it is now adopted by gentlemen and ladies.

18 "A cunning woman is a knavish fool."

Lord Lyttelton's Advice to a Lady. 19 The pupils of this learned lady (if we except Socrates) were most of them her lovers too, and consequently received instruction in the most agreeable manner it could be conveyed.

Your wit of a more piercing kind,
Your sense more moral and refin'd;
And should ye from strict reasoning swerve,
You still have conquest in reserve.

If arguments are sometimes slight,
'Your eyes are always in the right ".'
In love your empire is supreme,
The hero's palm, the poet's theme.
Nor will we dare to fix a date

When that soft empire yields to fate.

At seventy great Eliza lov'd,

Though coy perhaps her heroes 22 prov'd,
And Ninon 23 had a longer reign,
She lov'd, and was belov'd again;
Let Gedoyne the just era fix,
At eighty, or at eighty-six.

"One little hint, before we close
This tedious soporific dose,
One little hint we choose to give,
That nuptial harmony may live.

As husbands, though on small pretence,
Are wondrous jealous of their sense,
Perhaps 't were prudent to conceal
The great accomplishments you feel.
Then screen what pains the naked eye
With that thin gauze called modesty;
At least with diffidence maintain
The triumphs you are sure to gain.
Arm'd with this caution, justly claim
Your genuine share of power and fame;
Be every thing your conscious merit
Inspires, and with becoming spirit
Expand each passion of the heart,
Each talent Nature gives exert;

Be wise, be learn'd, be brave, nay fear'd-
But keep your sex, and HIDE THE BEARD 24.

"Ladies, your slave."-The dames withdrew. "Now, gentlemen, I turn to you.

You heard the lessons which I gave,

At once both ludicrous and grave,

And sneer'd perhaps ; but have a care,

I only banter'd with the fair.

When your important cause comes on,
We take it in a higher tone.

21 A line of Prior.

22 Essex and Courtney.

23 It is recorded of the celebrated Ninon l'Enclos, that a young French abbè, of the name of Gedoyne, had long solicited her favours, and was rather astonished at her coyness. When she yielded at last, she begged his pardon for so dilatory a compliance, and pleaded as her excuse, that her female vanity was piqued upon having a lover after she was fourscore; that she had only completed her eightieth year the day before, and therefore hoped her empressement to oblige him would be a proper acknowledgment of her gratitude for his attentions.

How long the attachment lasted, the author of this poem has modestly left undetermined.

her totally disgusting, clapped her on a beard.