Then in our chafte connubial bed,
My bofom pillow'd for his head,
His eyes
with blissful flumbers close,
And watch, with me, my lord's repofe;
Your peace around his temples twine,
And love him with a love like mine.

And, for I know his gen'rous flame,
Beyond whate'er my fex can claim,
Me too to your protection take,
And fpare me for my husband's fake.
Let one unruffled, calm delight
The loving and belov'd unite;
One pure defire our bofoms warm,
One will direct, one with inform;
Through life, one mutual aid fuftain;
In death, one peaceful grave contain.

While, fwelling with the darling theme,
Her accents pour'd an endless stream,
The well-known wings a found impart
That reach'd her ear, and touch'd her heart;
Quick dropp'd the mufic of her tongue,
And forth with eager joy the fprung.
As fwift her ent'ring confort flew,
And plum'd, and kindled at the view;
Their wings, their fouls, embracing meet,
Their hearts with anfwering measure beat;
Half loft in fecret fweets, and blefs'd
With raptures felt, but ne'er expreís'd.
Straight to her humble roof the led
The partner of her fpotlefs bed;
Her young, a futt'ring pair, arife,
Their welcome fparkling in their eyes;
Tranfported, to their fire they bound,
And hang with fpecchlefs action round.
In pleasure wrapt the parents ftand,
And fee their little wings expand ;
The fire his life-fuftaining prize
To cach expecting bill applics,
There fondly pours the wheaten fpoil,
With tranfport given, tho' won with toil;
While, all-collected at the fight,
And filent through fupreme delight,
The Fair high heaven of blifs beguiles,
And on her lord and infants fmiles.

The Sparrow, whose attention hung
Upon the Dove's enchanting tongue,
Of all his little flights difarm'd,
And from himself by virtue charm'd,
When now he faw what only feem'd,
A fact fo late a fable deem'd,
His foul to envy he refign'd,
His hours of folly to the wind;
In fecret with a turtle too,
And, fighing to himfelf, withdrew.

$253. Fable XV. The Female Seducers.
'TIS
IS faid of widow, maid, and wife,
That honour is a woman's life;
Unhappy fcx! who only claim
A being in the breath of fame;
Which, tainted, not the quick ning gales
That sweep Sabea's fpicy vales,
Nor all the healing fweets reftore,
That breathe along Arabia's fhore.

The trav'ller, if he chance to stray,
May turn uncenfur'd to his way;
Polluted ftreams again are purc,
And deepeft wounds admit a cure.
But woman no redemption knows,
The wounds of honour never close.

Tho' diftant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor kill'd on life's tempeftuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the courfe decrced,
In vain the feeks the friendleis fhore,
Her fwifter folly flics before!
The circling ports, against her clofe,
And thut the wand'rer from repofe;
Till, by conflicting waves opprefs'd,
Her found'ring pinnace finks to rest.

Are there ro offerings to atone
For but a fingle error -None.
Tho' woman is avow'd, of old,
No daughter of celeftial mould,
Her temp ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clav,
We challenge from the mortal dame
The ftrength angelic natures clain;
Nay more for facred ftories tell,
That even immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming fphere-
Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying clements endued,
Was form'd to fall, and rife renew'd.

The ftars no fix'd duration know;
Wide oceans ebb, again to flow;
The moon repietes her waning face,
All beauteous, from her late difgrace;
And funs, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rife with new-born light.

In vain may death and time fubdue,
While nature mints her race anew;
And holds fome vital fpark apart,
Like virtue, hid in ev'ry heart.
'Tis hence reviving warmth is feen,
To clothe a naked world in green.
No longer barr'd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold;
Again each infect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the fpring;
Again from ev'ry latent root
The bladed ften, and tendril fhoot,
Exhaling incenfe to the fkics,
Again to perish, and to rife.

And muft weak woman then difown
The change, to which a world is prone?
In one meridian brightnefs fhine,
And ne'er like cv'ning funs decline?
Refolv'd and firm alone? Is this
What we demand of woman?—Yes.

But fhould the spark of veftal fire
In fome unguarded hour expire;
Or fhould the nightly thief i vade
Hefperia's chafte and facred fhade,
Of all the blooming spoil poffefs'd,
The dragon Honour charm'd to reft,
Shall virtue's flame no more return?
No more with virgin fplend.u. burn?

No more the ravag'd garden blow
With fpring's fucceeding bloffom -No.
Pity may mourn, but not reftore;
And woman falls-to rife no more!
Within this fublunary sphere
A country lies-no matter where;
The clime may readily be found
By all who tread poetic ground;
A ftream, call'd Life, acrofs it glides,
And equally the land divides;
And here, of vice the province lies;
And there, the hills of virtue rife.
Upon a mountain's airy stand,
Whefe fummit look'd to either land,
An ancient pair their dwelling chofe,
As well for profpect as repose;
For mutual faith they long were fam'd,
And Temp'rance and Religion nam'd.
A num'rous progeny divine
Confefs'd the honours of their line;
But in a little daughter fair

Was center'd more than half their care;
For Heaven, to gratulate her birth,
Gave figns of future joy to earth;
White was the robe this infant wore,
And Chaftity the name the bore.

As now the maid in ftature grew
(A flow'r juft op'ning to the view)
Oft thro' her native lawns the ftray'd,
And wrestling with the lambkins play'd;
Her looks diffufive fweets bequeath'd,
The breeze grew purer as the breath'd;
The morn her radiant blufh affum'd,
The fpring with earlier fragrance bloom'd;
And nature yearly took delight,
Like her, to drefs the world in white.

But when her rifing form was feen To reach the crifis of fifteen, Her parents up the mountain's head With anxious ftep their darling led; By turns they fnatch'd her to their breast, And thus the fears of age exprefs'd O joyful caufe of many a care! O daughter too divinely fair! Yon world, on this important day, Demands thee to a dang'rous way; A painful journey all must go, Whofe doubted period none can know; Whofe due direction who can find, Where reafon's mute, and fenfe is blind? Ah, what unequal leaders thefe, Thro' fuch a wide, perplexing maze! Then mark the warnings of the wife, And learn what love and years advife. Far to the right thy prospect bend, Where yonder tow'ring hills afcend; Lo, there the arduous path's in view Which Virtue and her fons purfue; With toil o'er lefs ning earth they rife, And gain, and gain upon the skies. Narrow's the way her children tread, No walk for pleasure fmoothly fpread, But rough, and difficult, and steep, Painful to climb, and hard to keep,

Fruits immature thofe lands difpenfe,
A food indelicate to fenfe,

Of tafte unpleafant; yet from those
Pure health, with cheerful vigour, flows;
And ftrength, unfeeling of decay,
Throughout the long laborious way.
Hence, as they fcale that heavenly read,
Each limb is lighten'd of its load;
From earth refining till they go,
And leave the mortal weight below;
Then fpreads the ftrait, the doubtful clears,
And fmooth the rugged path appears;
For cuftom turns fatigue to eate,
And, taught by virtue, pain can please.

At length, the toilfome journey o'er,
And near the bright celeftial fhore,
A gulph, black, fearful, and profound,
Appears, of either world the bound,
Through darkness leading up to light;
Senfe backward fhrinks, and thuns the fight;
For there the tranfitory train

Of time, and form, and care, and pain,
And matter's grofs incumb'ring mass,
Man's late affociates, cannot paf's;
But finking, quit th' immortal charge,
And leave the wond ring foul at large;
Lightly the wings her obvious way,
And mingles with eternal day.

Thither, oh thither wing thy fpeed,
Tho' pleafure charm, or pain impede;
To fuch th' all-bounteous Pow'r has given,
For prefent earth, a future heaven;
For trivial lofs, unmeafur'd gain;
And endlefs blifs for tranfient pain.

Then fear, ah! fear to turn thy fight
Where yonder flow'ry fields invite:
Wide on the left the path-way bends,
And with pernicious eafe defcends;
There, sweet to sense, and fair to show
New-planted Edens feem to blow,
Trees, that delicious poifon bear;
For death is vegetable there.

Hence is the frame of health unbrac'd
Each finew flack'ning at the tafte,
The foul to paffion yields her throne,
And fees with organs not her own;
While, like the flumb'rer in the night,
Pleas'd with the fhadowy dream of light,
Before her alienated eyes
The fcenes of fairy-land arife;
The puppet world's amufing show,
Dipt in the gaily-colour'd bow,

Sceptres, and wreaths, and glitt'ring things,
The toys of infants and of kings,
That tempt, along the baneful plain,
The idly wife and lightly vain,
Till, verging on the gulphy fhore,
Sudden they fink-and rife no more.

But lift to what thy fates declare;
Tho' thou art woman, frail as fair,
If once thy fliding foot fhould ftray,
Once quit yon heaven-appointed way,
For thee, loft maid, for thee alone,
Nor pray'rs hall plead, nor tears atone;

Reproach

Reproach, fcorn, infamy, and hate,
On thy returning fteps fhall wait;
Thy form be loath'd by ev'ry eye,
And ev'ry foot thy prefence fly.

Thus arm'd with words of potent found,
Like guardian angels plac'd around,
A charm, by truth divinely caft,
Forward our young advent'rer pafs'd,
Forth from her facred eyelids fent,
Like morn, fore-running radiance went,
While Honour, handmaid late affign'd,
Upheld her lucid train behind.

Awe-ftruck, the much-admiring crowd
Before the virgin vifion bow'd;
Gaz'd with an ever-new delight,
And caught fresh virtue at the fight;
For not of earth's unequal frame

They deem the heaven-compounded Dame;
If matter, fure the most refin'd,
High wrought, and temper'd into mind,
Some darling daughter of the day,
And bodied by her native ray.

Where'er the paffes, thoufands bend,
And thousands where the moves attend;
Her ways obfervant eyes confefs,
Her fteps pursuing praifes blefs;
While to the elevated Maid
Oblations, as to Heaven, are paid.

'Twas on an ever-blithefome day,
The jovial birth of roly May,
When genial warmth, no more fuppreft,
New melts the froft in ev'ry breast,
The cheek with fecret flushing dyes,
And looks kind things from chafteft eyes;
The fun with healthier vifage glows,
Afide his clouded kerchief throws,
And dances up th' ethereal plain,
Where late he us'd to climb with pain,
While nature, as from bonds fet free,
Springs out, and gives a loofe to glee.

And now, for momentary rest,
The nymph her travell'd ftep reprefs'd,
Juft turn'd to view the stage attain'd,
And gloried in the height the gain'd.

Outftretch'd before her wide furvey
The realms of sweet perdition lay,
And pity touch'd her foul with woe,
To fee a world fo loft below;
When ftraight the breeze began to breathe
Airs, gently wafted from beneath,
That bore commiffion'd witchcraft thence,
And reach'd her fympathy of fenfe;
No founds of difcord, that difclofe
A people funk and loft in woes,
But as of prefent good poffefs'd,
The very triumph of the blefs'd.
The maid in rapt attention hung,
While thus approaching Sirens fung:

Hither, faireft, hither hafte,
Brightest beauty, come and tafte
What the pow'rs of blifs unfold,
Joys too mighty to be told;
Tafte what ecftafies they give;
Dying raptures tafte and live.

In thy lap, difdaining meafure,
Nature empties all her treasure,
Soft defires, that fweetly languifh;
Fierce delights, that rife to anguish ;
Faireft, dost thou vet delay?
Brighteft beauty, come away.

Lift not, when the froward chide,
Sons of pedantry and pride,
Snarlers, to whofe feeble fenfe
April's fimfhine is offence;
Age and envy will advise
Even against the joy they prize.

Come, in pleafure's balmy bowl
Slake the thirstings of thy foul,
Till thy raptur'd pow'rs are fainting
With enjoyment, paft the painting
Faireft, doft thou yet delay ?
Brightest beauty, come away.
So fung the Sirens, as of yore,
Upon the falfe Aufonian fhore;
And O! for that preventing chain,
That bound Ulyffes on the main,
That fo our Fair One might withstand
The covert ruin, now at hand.

The fong her charm'd attention drew,
When now the tempters stood in view;
Curiofity, with prying eyes,
And hands of bufy, bold emprife;
Like Hermes, feather'd were her feet;
And, like fore-running fancy, fleet;
By fearch untaught, by toil untir'd,
To novelty fhe ftill afpir'd,
Taftelefs of every good poffefs'd,
And but in expectation bleft.

With her, affociate, Pleasure came,
Gay Pleasure, frolic-loving dame,
Her mien all fwimming in delight,
Her beauties half reveal'd to fight;

Loofe flow'd her garments from the ground,
And caught the kiffing winds around.
As erft Medufa's looks were known
To turn beholders into ftone,
A dire reverfion here they felt,
And in the eye of Pleasure melt.
Her glance with fweet perfuafion charm'd,
Unnerv'd the ftrong, the fteel'd difarm'd;
No fafety even the flying find,
Who, vent'rous, look but once behind.

Thus was the much-admiring Maid,
While diftant, more than half betray'd.
With fmiles, and adulation bland,
They join'd her fide, and seiz'd her hand;
Their touch envenom'd fweets inftill'd,
Her frame with new pulfations thrill'd;
While half confenting, half denying,
Reluctant now, and now complying,
Amidft a war of hopes and fears,
Of trembling wifhes, fmiling tears,
Still down, and down, the winning pair
Compell'd the ftruggling, yielding Fair.
As when some stately veffel, bound
To bleft Arabia's diftant ground,
Borne from her courfes, haply lights
Where Barca's flow'ry clime invites,

Conceal'd

Conceal'd around whofe treach'rous land
Lurk the dire rock and dang'rous fand;
The pilot warns, with fail and oar,
To fhun the much-fuspected shore,
In vain; the tide, too fubtly ftrong,
Still bears the wrestling bark along,
Till found'ring, the refigus to fate,

And finks, o'erwhelm'd, with all her freight.
So, baffling ev'ry bar to fin,
And Heaven's own pilot, plac'd within,
Along the devious, smooth descent,
With pow'rs increafing as they went,
The daines, accuftom'd to fubdue,
As with a rapid current drew,
And o'er the fatal bounds convey'd
The loft, the long reluctant Maid.

Here ftop, ye fair ones, and beware,
Nor fend your fond affections there;
Yet, yet your darling, now deplor'd,
May turn, to you and heaven reftor'd:
Till then, with weeping Honour wait,
The fervant of her better fate;
With Honour, left upon the fhore,
Her friend and handmaid now no more;
Nor, with the guilty world, upbraid
The fortunes of a wretch betray'd;
But o'er her failing caft a veil,
Rememb'ring you yourselves are frail.
And now, from all-enquiring light,
Faft fled the confcious fhades of night;
The Damfel, from a fhort repofe,
Confounded at her plight, arofe.

As when, with flumb'rous weight oppreft,
Some wealthy mifer finks to rest,
Where felons eye the glitt'ring prey,
And fteal his hoard of joys away;
He, borne where golden Indus ftreams,
Of pearl and quarry'd diamond dreams;
Like Midas, turns the glebe to ore,
And ftands all rapt amidst his ftore;
Bot wakens, naked, and defpoil'd
Of that for which his years had toil'd.
So far'd the Nymph, her treafure flown,
And turn'd, like Niobe, to ftone;
Within, without, obfcure and void,
She felt all ravag'd, all deftroy'd.
And, O thou curs'd, infidious coaft!
Are thefe the bleffings thou can boaft?
Thefe, Virtue! thefe the joys they find,
Who leave thy heaven-topt hills behind?
Shade me, ye pines, ye caverns, hide,
Ye mountains, cover me! fhe cried.

Her trumpet Slander rais'd on high,
And told the tidings to the sky;
Contempt difcharg'd a living dart,
A fide-long viper to her heart;
Reproach breath'd poifons o'er her face,
And foil'd and blafted ev'ry grace;
Officious Shame, her handmaid new,
Still turn'd the mirror to her view,
While thofe in crimes the deepeft dyed,
Approach'd to whiten at her fide.
And ev'ry lewd infulting dame
Upon her folly rofe to fame.

What should she do? Attempt once more
To gain the late-deferted thore?
So trufting, back the Mourner flew,
As faft the train of fiends purfue.
Again the farther fhore's attain'd,
Again the land of Virtue gain'd;
But echo gathers in the wind,
And fhews her inftant foes behind.
Amaz'd, with headlong speed fhe tends,
Where late the left an hoft of friends;
Alas! thofe fhrinking friends decline,
Nor longer own that form divine:
With fear they mark the following cry,
And from the lonely trembler fly,
Or backward drive her on the coaft,
Where peace was wreck'd, and honour loft,
From earth thus hoping aid in vain,
To Heaven not daring to complain;
No truce by hoftile clamour given,
And from the face of friendship driven,
The Nymph funk proftrate on the ground,
With all her weight of woes around.

Enthron'd within a circling fky,
Upon a mount, o'er mountains high,
All radiant fat, as in a fhrine,
Virtue, firft effluence divine;
Far, far above the fcenes of woe,
That fhut this cloud-wrapt world below
Superior goddess, effence bright,
Beauty of uncreated light,
Whom should mortality furvey,
As doom'd upon a certain day,
The breath of frailty muft expire,
The world diffolve in living fire,
The gems of heaven and folar flame
Be quench'd by her eternal beam,
And nature, quick'ning in her eye,
To rife a new-born phoenix, die.

Hence, unrevcal'd to mortal view,
A veil around her form the threw,
Which three fad fifters of the shade, -
Pain, Care, and Melancholy, made.
Thro' this her all-enquiring eye,
Attentive from her station high,
Beheld, abandon'd to defpair,
The ruins of her fav'rite fair;
And with a voice, whofe awful found
Appal'd the guilty world around,
Bid the tumultuous winds be still,
To numbers bow'd each list'ning hill,
Uncurl'd the furging of the main,
And fmooth'd the thorny bed of pain;
The golden harp of heaven fhe ftrung,
And thus the tuneful goddess fung:

Lovely Penitent, arife,

Come, and claim thy kindred fkies;
Come, thy fifter angels fay
Thou haft wept thy stains away.

Let experience now decide
'Twixt the good and evil tried;
In the fmooth, enchanted ground,
Say, unfold the treatures found.

Structures, rais'd by morning dreams;
Sands, that trip the flitting ftreams;
Down, that anchors on the air;
Clouds, that paint their changes there;

Scas, that smoothly dimpling lie,
While the ftorm impends on high,
Shewing, in an obvious glass,
Joys that in poffcffion pafs;

Tranfient, fickle, light, and gay,
Flatt'ring, only to betray;
What, alas, can life contain !
Life! like all its circles-vain.

Will the ftork, intending reft,
On the billow build her neft?
Will the bee demand his ftore
From the bleak and bladeless fhore?

Man alone, intent to ftray,
Ever turns from wifdom's way;
Lays up wealth in foreign land,
Sows the fea, and plows the fand.

Soon this elemental mafs,
Soon th' incumb'ring world fhall pass;
Form be wrapt in wafting fire,
Time be fpent, and life expire.

Then, ye boafted works of men,
Where is your asylum then?
Sons of pleasure, fons of care,
Tell me, mortals, tell me where?

Gone, like traces on the deep,
Like a fceptre grafp'd in fleep,
Dews, exhal'd from morning glades,
Melting fnows, and gliding thades.
Pafs the world, and what's behind?
Virtue's gold, by fire refin'd;
From an univerfe deprav'd,
From the wreck of nature fav'd.

Like the life-fupporting grain,
Fruit of patience and of pain,
On the fwain's autumnal day,
Winnow'd from the chaff away.

Little trembler, fear no more,
Thou haft plenteous crops in ftore;
Seed, by genial forrows fown,
More than all thy fcorners own.

What tho' hoftile earth defpife, Heaven beholds with gentler eyes; Heaven thy friendless steps fhall guide, Cheer thy hours, and guard thy fide.

When the fatal trump fhall found,
When th' immortals pour around,
Heaven fhall thy return atteft,
Hail'd by myriads of the blefs'd.

Little native of the fkics,
Lovely penitent, arise;
Calm thy bofom, clear thy brow,
Virtue is thy fifter now.

More delightful are my woes
Than the rapture pleafure kaows:
Richer far the weeds I bring
Than the robes that grace a king.

On my wars, of shorteft date, Crowns of endless triumph wait; On my cares a period blefs'd; On my toils, eternal rest.

Come, with Virtue at thy fide; Come, be ev'ry bar deficd, Till we gain our native fhore: Sifter, come, and turn no mo:c.

§ 254. Fable XVI. Love and Vanity. THE breezy morning breath'd perfume,

The wak'aing flow'rs unveil'd their bloom,
Up with the fun, from short repose,
Gay health and lufty labour rofe;
The milkmaid caroll'd at her pail,
And thepherds whiftled o'er the dale;
When Love, who led a rural life,
Remote from buftle, ftate and strife,
Forth from his thatch'd roof'd cottage ftray'd,
And ftroll'd along the dewy glade.

A Nymph, who lightly tripp'd it by,
To quick attention turn'd his eye;
He mark'd the gefture of the Fair,
Her felf-fufficient grace and air,
Her fteps, that mincing meant to please,
Her ftudied negligence, and eafe;
And curious to enquire what meant
This thing of prettinefs and paint,
Approaching fpoke, and bow'd obfervant;
The Lady, flightly,-Sir, your fervant.
Such beauty in fo rude a place!
Fair one, you do the country grace;
At court no doubt the public care,
But Love has finall acquaintance there.

Yes, Sir, replied the flutt'ring Dame,
This form confeffes whence it came;
But dear variety, you know,
Can make us pride and pomp forego.
My name is Vanity. I fway
The utmoft iflands of the fea;
Within my court all honour centres;
I raise the meaneft foul that enters,
Endow with latent gifts and graces,
And model fools for pofts and places.

As Vanity appoints at pleafure,
The world receives its weight and measure;
Hence all the grand concerns of life,
Joys, cares, plagues, paffions, peace and ftrife.
Reflect how far my pow'r prevails,
When I ftep in where nature fails,
And ev'ry breach of fenfe repairing,
Am bounteous ftill where Heaven is fparing.
But chief in all their arts and airs,
Their playing, painting, pouts, and pray'rs,
Their various habits and complexions,
Fits, frolicks, foibles, and perfections,
Their robing, curling, and adorning,
From noon to night, from night to morning,
From fix to fixty, fick or found,

I rule the female world around.

Hold there a moment, Cupid cried,
Nor boaft dominion quite fo wide.
Was there no province to invade,
But that by Love and meeknefs fway'd?

AH