Have left on long record of woman's rife,
What morals teach it, and what fables hide,
What author wrote it, how that author dy'd,
All these I fing. In Greece they fram'd the tale;
(In Greece 'twas thought, a woman might be frail)
Ye modern Beauties! where the Poet drew
His fofteft pencil, think he dreamt of you;
And warn'd by him, ye wanton pens, beware
How heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the Fair.
The cafe was Hefiod's; he the fable writ;
Some think with meaning, fome with idle wit:
Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please ;

I wave the contest, and commence the lays.

In

In days of yore, (no matter where or when, 'Twas ere the low creation fwarm'd with men) That one Prometheus, fprung of heavenly birth, (Our Author's fong can witnefs) liv'd on earth. He carv'd the turf to mold a manly frame, And ftole from Jove his animating flame. The fly contrivance o'er Olympus ran,

When thus the monarch of the ftars began.

Oh vers'd in arts! whofe daring thoughts afpire, To kindle clay with never-dying fire!

Enjoy thy glory past, that gift was thine

;

The next thy creature meets, be fairly mine :
And fuch a gift, a vengeance fo defign'd,
As fuits the counfel of a God to find;
A pleafing bofom-cheat, a fpecious ill,
Which felt they curfe, yet covet still to feel.

He faid, and Vulcan ftrait the Sire commands,
To temper mortar with etherial hands;
In fuch a fhape to mold a rifing Fair,

As virgin goddeffes are proud to wear;
To make her eyes with diamond-water fhine,
And form her organs for a voice divine.

'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd; the Pow'r obey'd;
And work'd, and wonder'd at the work he made;

The

The fairest, foftest, sweetest frame beneath,

Now made to feem, now more than seem to breathe.
As Vulcan ends, the chearful Queen of charms,
Clafp'd the new-panting creature in her arms;
From that embrace a fine complexion fpread,
Where mingled whiteness glow'd with softer red.
Then in a kifs fhe breath'd her various arts,
Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts;
A mind for love, but ftill a changing mind;
The lifp affected, and the glance design'd ;
The fweet confusing blufh, the fecret wink,
The gentle-swimming walk, the courteous fink;
The stare for ftrangeness fit, for scorn the frown
For decent yielding, looks declining down ;
The practis'd languifh, where well-feign'd defire
Would own its melting in a mutual fire ;
Gay fmiles to comfort; April fhow'rs to move;
And all the nature, all the art of love.

Gold-fcepter'd Juno next exalts the Fair;
Her touch endows her with imperious air,
Self-valuing fancy, highly-crested pride,
Strong fov'reign will, and fome desire to chide :
For which, an eloquence, that aims to vex,
With native tropes of anger, arms the fex.

Minerva,

Minerva, skilful Goddess, train'd the maid
To twirl the spindle by the twisting thread,
To fix the loom, inftruct the reeds to part,
Crofs the long weft, and close the web with art,
An useful gift; but what profufe expence,

What world of fashions, took its rife from hence !
Young Hermes next, a close contriving God,
Her brows encircled with his ferpent rod :
Then plots and fair excufes fill'd her brain,
The views of breaking am'rous vows for gain;
The price of favours; the defigning arts
'That aim at riches in contempt of hearts;
And for a comfort in the marriage life,
The little, pilf'ring temper of a wife.

Full on the Fair his beams Apollo flung,
And fond perfuafion tip'd her easy tongue;
He gave her words, where oily flatt'ry lays
The pleafing colours of the art of praise ;
And wit, to fcandal exquifitely prone,

Which frets another's spleen to cure its own.

Thofe facred Virgins whom the Bards revere, Tun'd all her voice, and fhed a sweetness there, To make her fenfe with double charms abound, Or make her lively nonsense please by found.

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