To drefs the maid, the decent Graces brought
A robe in all the dies of beauty wrought,
And plac'd their boxes o'er a rich brocade,
Where pictur❜d Loves on ev'ry cover play'd;
Then spread thofe implements that Vulcan's art
Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's heart;
The wire to curl, the close-indented comb
To call the locks that lightly wander, home;
And chief, the mirrour, where the ravish'd maid
Beholds and loves her own reflected fhade.
Fair Flora lent her ftores; the purpled Hours
Confin'd her treffes with a wreath of flow'rs;
Within the wreath arose a radiant crown;
A veil pellucid hung depending down ;
Back roll'd her azure veil with ferpent fold,
The purfled border deck'd the floor with gold.
Her robe (which closely by the girdle brac'd
Reveal'd the beauties of a flender waist)
Flow'd to the feet, to copy Venus' air,
When Venus' ftatues have a robe to wear.
The new-fprung creature finifh'd thus for harms,
Adjusts her habit, practises her charms,
With blushes glows, or fhines with lively fmiles,
Confirms her will, or recollects her wiles :
Then confcious of her worth, with eafy pace
Glides by the glass, and turning views her face.
A finer flax than what they wrought before,
Thro' time's deep cave, the Sifter Fates explore,
Then fix the loom, their fingers nimbly weave,
And thus their toil prophetic fongs deceive.
Flow from the rock, my flax! and swiftly flow,
Purfue thy thread; the fpindle runs below.
A creature fond and changing, fair and vain,
The creature woman, rifes now to reign.
New beauty blooms, a beauty form'd to fly;
New love begins, a love produc'd to die;
New parts diftrefs the troubled fcenes of life,
The fondling mistress, and the ruling wife.
Men, born to labour, all with pains provide;
Women have time, to facrifice to pride:
They want the care of man, their want they know,
And drefs to please with heart-alluring fhow,
The fhow prevailing, for the fway contend,
And make a fervant where they meet a friend.
Thus in a thousand wax-erected forts
A loitering race the painful bee fupports,
From fun to fun, from bank to bank he flies,
With honey loads his bag, with wax his thighs;
Fly where he will, at home the race remain,
Prune the filk dress, and murm'ring eat the gain.
Yet here and there we grant a gentle bride,
Whofe temper betters by the father's fide;
Unlike the reft that double human care,
Fond to relieve, or refolute to fhare:
Happy the man whom thus his ftars advance!
The curfe is gen'ral, but the bleffing chance.
Thus fung the Sifters, while the Gods admire
Their beauteous creature, made for man in ire ;
The young Pandora fhe, whom all contend.
To make too perfect not to gain her end :
Then bid the winds that fly to breathe the fpring,
Return to bear her on a gentle wing;
With wafting airs the winds obfequious blow,
And land the shining vengeance fafe below.
A golden coffer in her hand fhe bore,
The prefent treach'rous, but the bearer more,
'Twas fraught with pangs; for Jove ordain'd above,
That gold fhould aid, and pangs attend on love.
Her gay defcent the man perceiv'd afar,
Wond'ring he run to catch the falling star;
But fo furpriz'd, as none but he can tell,
Who lov'd fo quickly, and who lov'd fo well.
O'er all his veins the wand'ring paffion burns,
He calls her Nymph, and ev'ry Nymph by turns.
Her form to lovely Venus he prefers,
Or fwears that Venus' must be such as hers.
She, proud to rule, yet strangely fram❜d to teaze,
Neglects his offers while her airs fhe plays,
Shoots fcornful glances from the bended frown,
In brifk diforder trips it up and down,
Then hums a careless tune to lay the ftorm,
And fits, and blushes, fmiles, and yields, in form.
"Now take what Jove defign'd, she softly cry'd,
"This box thy portion, and myself thy bride :"
Fir'd with the profpect of the double charms,
He fnatch'd the box, and bride, with eager arms.
Unhappy man! to whom so bright she shone,
The fatal gift, her tempting self, unknown!
The winds were filent, all the waves asleep,
And heav'n was trac'd upon the flatt'ring deep;
But whilft he looks unmindful of a storm,
And thinks the water wears a ftable form,
What dreadful din around his ears fhall rife!
What frowns confufe his picture of the skies!
At first the creature man was fram'd alone,
Lord of himself, and all the world his own.
For him the Nymphs in green forfook the woods,
For him the Nymphs in blue forfook the floods,
In vain the Satyrs rage, the Tritons rave,
They bore him heroes in the fecret cave.
No care destroy'd, no fick disorder prey'd,
No bending age his fprightly form decay'd,
No wars were known, no females heard to rage,
And Poets tell us, 'twas a golden age.
When woman came, thofe ills the box confin'd
Burft furious out, and poison'd all the wind,
From point to point, from pole to pole they flew,
Spread as they went, and in the progress grew :
The Nymphs regretting left the mortal race,
And alt'ring nature wore a fickly face :
New terms of folly rofe, new states of care;
New plagues, to fuffer, and to please, the Fair!
The days of whining, and of wild intrigues,
Commenc'd, or finish'd, with the breach of leagues;
The mean defigns of well-diffembled love;
The fordid matches never join'd above;
Abroad the labour, and at home the noise,
(Man's double fuff'rings for domestic joys)
The curfe of jealousy; expence, and strife;
Divorce, the publick brand of shameful life ;
|