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Those seats, whence long excluded, thou must|'Tis long since Cynthia and her train were there, mourn:

Or guardian gods made innocence their care. That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return:

Vagrants and qutlaws shall offend thy view : Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,

For such must be my friends, a hideous crew, And hate a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to By adverse fortune mix'd in social ill, rove?

Train'd to assault, and disciplin'd to kill ;

Their common loves, a lewd abandon'd pack,

The beadle's lash still flagrant on their back:
Thy rise of fortune did I only wed,

By sloth corrupted, by disorder fed, From its decline determin’d to recede;

Made bold by want, and prostitute for bread : Did I but purpose to embark with thee

With such must Emma hunt the tedious day, On the smooth surface of a summer's sea ; Assist their violence, and divide their prey : While gentle zephyrs play in prosperous gales,

With such she must return at setting light,
And Fortune's favor fills the swelling sails ; Though not partaker, witness of their night.
But would forsake the ship, and make the shore, Thy ear,inur'd to charitable sounds
When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar ? And pitying love, must feel the hateful wounds
No, Henry, no: one sacred oath has tied

Of jest obscene and vulgar ribaldry,
Our loves: one destiny our life shall guide ; The ill-bred question, and the lewd reply;
Nor wild nor deep our common way divide. Brought by long habitude from bad to worse,

When from the cave thou risest with the day, Must hear the frequent oath, the direful curse,
To beat the woods, and rouse the bounding prey; That latest weapon of the wretches' war,
The cave with moss and branches I'll adorn, And blasphemy, sad comrade of despair.
And cheerful sit, to wait my lord's return :

Now, Emma, now the last reflection make, And, when thou frequent bring'st the smitten deer, What thou wouldst follow, what thou must for. (For seldom, archers say, thy arrows err)

sake :
I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighboring wood, By our ill-omen'd stars, and adverse Heaven,
And strike the sparkling flint, and dress the food ; No middle object to thy choice is given.
With humble duty, and officious haste,

Or yield thy virtue, to attain thy love;
I'll cull the furthest mead for thy repast;

Or leave a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to The choicest herbs I to thy board will bring,

And draw thy water from the freshest spring:
And, when at night with weary toil opprest,
Soft slumbers thou enjoy’st, and wholesome rest, O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates
Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight prayer Force thee to suffer what thy honor hates :
Weary the gods to keep thee in their care ; Mix thee amongst the bad; or make thee run
And joyous ask, at morn's returning ray,

Too near the paths which Virtue bids thee shun.
If thou hast health, and I may bless the day. Yet with her Henry still let Emma go;
My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend, With him abhor the vice, but share the woe :
On thee, guide, guardian, kinsman, father, friend : And sure my little heart can never err
By all these sacred names be Henry known Amidst the worst, if Henry still be there.
To Emma's heart; and grateful let him own Our outward act is prompted from within ;
That she, of all mankind, could love but him alone! And from the sinner's mind proceeds the sin :

By her own choice free Virtue is approv'd ;

Nor by the force of outward objects mov'd.
Vainly thou tellist me, what the woman's care Who has assay'd no danger, gains no praise.
Shall in the wildness of the wood prepare : In a small isle, amidst the wildest seas,
Thou, ere thou goest, unhappiest of thy kind, Triumphant Constancy has fix'd her seat:
Must leave the habit and the sex behind.

In vain the Syrens sing, the tempests beat: No longer shall thy comely tresses break

Their flattery she rejects, nor fears their threat. In flowing ringlets on thy snowy neck;

For thee alone these little charms I drest : Or sit behind thy head, an ample round,

Condemn’d them, or absolv'd them by thy test. In graceful braids with various ribbon bound : In comely figure rang'd my jewels shone, No longer shall the bodice aptly lac'd,

Or negligently plac'd for thee alone : From thy full bosom to thy slender waist, For thee again they shall be laid aside ; That air and harmony of shape express,

The woman, Henry, shall put off her pride Fine by degrees, and beautifully less :

For thee: my clothes, my sex, exchang'd for thee, Nor shall thy lower garments' artful plait, I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee: From thy fair side dependent to thy feet,

O line extreme of human infamy! Arm their chaste beauties with a modest pride, Wanting the scissars, with these hands I'll tear And double every charm they seek to hide. (If that obstructs my flight), this load of hair. Th'ambrosial plenty of thy shining hair, Black soot, or yellow walnut, shall disgrace Cropt off and lost, scarce lower than thy ear This little red and white of Emma's face. Shall stand uncouth: a horseman's coat shall hide These nails with scratches shall deform my breast, Thy taper shape, and comeliness of side :

Lest by my look or color be express'd The short trunk-hose shall show thy foot and knee The mark of aught high-born, or ever better dress'd. Licentious, and to common eye-sight free: Yet in this commerce, under this disguise, And, with a bolder stride and looser air,

Let me be grateful still to Henry's eyes; Mingled with men, a man thou must appear. Lost to the world, let me to him be known :

Nor solitude, nor gentle peace of mind, My fate I can absolve, if he shall own Mistaken maid, shalt thou in forests find : That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone.


to rove.




Why shouldst thou weep? let Nature judge our

case ;

I saw thee young and fair; pursued the chase O wildest thoughts of an abandon'd mind !

Of Youth and Beauty: I another saw
Name, habit, parents, woman, left behind,
Ev'n honor dubious, thou preferr'st to go

Fairer and younger: yielding to the law

Of our all-ruling mother, I pursued
Wild to the woods with me : said Emma so?
Or did I dream what Emma never said ?

More youth, more beauty: blest vicissitude !

My active heart still keeps its pristine flame;
O guilty error! and O wretched maid !

The object alter'd, the desire the same.
Whose roving fancy would resolve the same
With him, who next should tempt her easy fame;

This young&, fairer, pleads her rightful charms;
And blow with empty words the susceptible flame. With present power compels me to her arms.
Now why should doubtful terms thy mind perplex ? And much I fear, from my subjected mind,
Confess thy frailty, and avow the sex :

(If Beauty's force to constant love can bind,) No longer loose desire for constant love

That years may roll, ere in her turn the maid
Mistake : but say, 'tis man with whom thou long'st And weeping follow me, as thou dost now,

Shall weep the fury of my love decay'd;
With idle clamors of a broken vow.

Nor can the wildness of thy wishes err
Are there not poisons, racks, and Aames, and Love, well thou know'st, no partnership allow.

So wide, to hope that thou may'st live with he swords,

Cupid averse rejects divided vows : That Emma thus must die by Henry's words ?

Then, from thy foolish heart, vain maid, remox Yet what could swords or poison, racks or flame,

An useless sorrow, and an ill-starr'd love But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame!

And leave me, with the fair, at large in wooa More fatal Henry's words; they murder Emma's fame.

And fall these sayings from that gentle tongue, Where civil speech and soft persuasion hung; Whose artful sweetness and harmonious strain, Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain,

Are we in life through one great error led ? Call’d sighs, and tears, and wishes, to its aid ;

Is each man perjur’d, and each nymph betray'd, And, whilst it Henry's glowing flame convey'd,

Of the superior sex art thou the worst ? Sill blam'd the coldness of the Nut-brown Maid? Am I of mine the most completely curst? Let envious Jealousy and canker'd Spite

Yet let me go with thee ; and going prove, Produce my actions to severest light,

From what I will endure, how much I love. And tax my open day, or secret night.

This potent beauty, this triumphant fair Did e'er my tongue speak my unguarded heart

This happy object of our different care, The least inclin'd to play the wanton's part ?

Her let me follow; her let me attend Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal, A servant (she may scorn the name of friend). Which angels might not hear, and virgins tell ?

What she demands, incessant I'll prepare : And hast thou, Henry, in my conduct known I'll weave her garlands; and I'll plait her hair : One fault, but that which I must never own,

My busy diligence shall deck her board, That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone? (For there at least I may approach my lord.)

And, when her Henry's softer hours advise

His servant's absence, with dejected eyes Vainly thou talk'st of loving me alone :

Far I'll recede, and sighs forbid to rise. Each man is man; and all our sex is one.

Yet, when increasing grief brings slow disease, False are our words, and fickle is our mind :

And ebbing life, on terms severe as these, Nor in Love's ritual can we ever find

Will have its little lamp no longer fed ; Vows made to last, or promises to bind.

When Henry's mistress shows him Emma dead; By Nature prompted, and for empire made,

Rescue my poor remains from vile neglect, Alike by strength or cunning we invade :

With virgin honors let my hearse be deckt, When, arm'd with rage, we march against the foe. And decent emblem; and at least persuade We list the battle-ax and draw the bow:

This happy nymph, that Emma may be laid When, fir'd with passion, we attack the fair,

Where thou, dear author of my death, where she, Delusive sighs and brittle vows we bear;

With frequent eye my sepulchre may see. Our falsehood and our arms have equal use;

The nymph amidst her joys may haply breathe As they our conquest or delight produce.

One pious sigh, reflecting on my death, The foolish heart thou gav'st, again receive,

And the sad fate which she may one day provo, The only boon departing love can give.

Who hopes from Henry's vows eternal love. To be less wretched, be no longer true;

And thou forsworn, thou cruel, as thou art,
What strives to Ay thee, why shouldst thou pursue? Thou sure must give one thought, and drop one teal

If Emma's image ever touch'd thy heart ;
Forget the present flame, indulge a new;
Single the loveliest of the amorous youth :

To her, whom love abandon'd to despair;
Ask for his vow; but hope not for his truth.

To her, who, dying, on the wounded stone The next man (and the next thou shalt believe)

Bid it in lasting characters be known,
Will pawn his gods, intending to deceive;

That, of mankind, she lov'd but thee alone.
Will kneel, implore, persist, o'ercome, and leave.
Hence let thy Cupid aim his arrows right;

Be wise and false, shun trouble, seek delight:

Hear, solemn Jove; and conscious Venus, hear; Change thou the first, nor wait thy lover's flight.

And thou, bright maid, believe me whilst I swear,


No time, no change, no future flame, shall move Nor happiness can I, nor misery feel,
The well-plac'd basis of my lasting love.

From any turn of her fantastic wheel :
O powerful virtue! O victorious fair!

Friendship’s great laws, and Love's superior powers, At least, excuse a trial too severe :

Must mark the color of my future hours. Receive the triumph, and forget the war.

From the events which thy commands create, No banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove, I must my blessings or my sorrows date ; Entreats thy pardon, and implores thy love: And Henry's will must dictate Emma's fate. No perjur'd knight desires to quit thy arms,

Yet, while with close delight and inward pride Fairest collection of thy ser's charms,

(Which from the world my careful soul shall hide) Crown of my love, and honor of my youth! I see thee, lord and end of my desire, Henry, thy Henry, with eternal truth,

Exalted high as virtue can require; As thou may'st wish, shall all his life employ, With power invested, and with pleasure cheerd; And found his glory in his Emma's joy.

Sought by the good, by the oppressor fear'd; In me behold the potent Edgar's heir,

Loaded and blest with all the affluent store, Illustrious earl: him terrible in war

Which human vows at smoking shrines implore ; Let Loyre confess, for she has felt his sword, Grateful and humble grant me to employ And trembling filed before the British lord. My life subservient only to thy joy ; Him great in peace and wealth fair Dova knows; And at my death to bless thy kindness shown For she amidst his spacious meadows flows; To her, who of mankind could love but thee alone Inclines her urn upon his fatien'd lands; And sees his numerous herds imprint her sands. While thus the constant pair alternate said, And thou, my fair, my dove, shalt raise thy Joyful above them and around them play'd thought

Angels and sportive Loves, a numerous crowd ; To greatness next to empire: shalt be brought Smiling they clapt their wings, and low they bow'd. With solemn pomp to my paternal seat;

They tumbled all their little quivers o'er, Where peace and plenty on thy word shall wait. To choose propitious shafts, a precious store ; Music and song shall wake the marriage-day ; That, when their god should take his future darts, And, whilst the priests accuse the bride's delay, To strike (however rarely) constant hearts, Myrtles and roses shall obstruct her way. His happy skill might proper arms employ, Friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn ; All tipt with pleasure, and all wing’d with joy : And blooming Peace shall ever bless thy morn. And those, they vow'd, whose lives should imitate Succeeding years their happy race shall run, These lovers' constancy, should share their fate. And Age, unheeded, by delight come on:

The queen of beauty stopt her bridled doves; While yet superior Love shall mock his power : Approv'd the little labor of the Loves; And when old Time shall turn the fated hour, Was proud and pleas’d the mutual vow to hear; Which only can our well-tied knot unfold, And to the triumph callid the god of war: What rests of both, one sepulchre shall hold. Soon as she calls, the god is always near.

Hence then for ever from my Emma's breast, “ Now, Mars," she said, “let Fame exalt her (That heaven of softness, and that seat of rest,)

voice : Ye doubts and fears, and all that know to move . Nor let thy conquests only be her choice : Tormenting grief, and all that trouble love, But, when she sings great Edward from the field Scatter'd by winds recede, and wild in forests rove. Return'd, the hostile spear and captive shield

In Concord's temple hung, and Gallia taught to


And when as prudent Saturn shall complete O day, the fairest sure that ever rose !

| The years design'd to perfect Britain's state, Period and end of anxious Emma's woes ! The swift-wing'd power shall take her trump again, Sire of her joy, and source of her delight; To sing her favorite Anna's wondrous reign; O! wing'd with pleasure, take thy happy flight, To recollect unwearied Marlborough's toils, And give each future morn a tincture of thy white. Old Rufus' hall unequal to his spoils ; Yet tell thy votary, potent queen of love, The British soldier from his high command Henry, my Henry, will he never rove?

(Glorious, and Gaul thrice vanquish'd by his hand. Will he be ever kind, and just, and good ? Let her, at least, perform what I desire ; And is there yet no mistress in the wood ?

With second breath the vocal brass inspire ;
None, none there is; the thought was rash and vain; And tell the nations, in no vulgar strain,
A false idea, and a fancied pain.

What wars I manage, and what wreaths I gain. Doubt shall for ever quit my strengthen'd heart, And, when thy tumults and thy fights are past; And anxious jealousy's corroding smart;

And when thy laurels at my feet are cast; Nor other inmate shall inhabit there,

Faithful may'st thou, like British Henry, prove : But soft Belief, young Joy, and pleasing Care. And, Emma-like, let me return thy love.

Hence let the tides of plenty ebb and flow, Renown'd for truth, let all thy sons appear; And Fortune's various gale unheeded blow. And constant beauty shall reward their care." If at my feet the suppliant goddess stands,

Mars smil'd, and bow'd: the Cyprian deity
And sheds her treasure with unwearied hands; Turn'd to the glorious ruler of the sky ;
Her present favor cautious I'll embrace,

" And thou,” she smiling said, “ great god of days And not unthankful use the proffer'd grace : And verse, behold my deed, and sing my praise ; If she reclaims the temporary boon,

As on the British earth, my favorite isle,
And tries her pinions, fluttering to be gone; Thy gentle rays and kindest influence smile,
Secure of mind, I'll obviate her intent,

Through all her laughing fields and verdant groves, And unconcern'd return the goods she lent. Proclaim with joy these memorable loves.



From every annual course let one great day

The eyes might have conspir'd her ruin, To celebrated sports and floral play

And she not known what they were doing. Be set aside ; and, in the softest lays

Foolish it had been, and unkind, Of thy poetic sons, be solemn praise

That they should see, and she be blind. And everlasting marks of honor paid

* Wise Nature likewise, they suppose, To the true lover, and the Nut-brown Maid." Has drawn two conduits down our nuse :

Could Alma else with judgment tell
When cabbage stinks, or roses smell?
Or who would ask for her opinion
Between an oyster and an onion?

For from most bodies, Dick, you know,

Some little bits ask leave to flow;

And, as through these canals they roll,

Bring up a sample of the whole ;

Like footmen running before coaches,

To tell the inn what lord approaches.

· By nerves about our palate plac'd, IN THREE CANTOES.

She likewise judges of the taste.

Else (dismal thought!) our warlike men Πάντα γέλως, και πάντα κόνις, και πάντα το μηδέν. Might drink thick port for fine champogne; Πάντα γάρ εξ αλόγων εστι τα γιγνόμενα. .

And our ill-judging wives and daughters
Incert. ap. Stobaum. Mistake small-beer for citron-waters.

“Hence, too, that she might better hear, Canto I.

She sets a drum at either ear: MATTHEW* met Richard,t when or where

And, loud or gentle, harsh or sweet, From story is not mighty clear:

Are but th' alarums which they beat. Of many knotty points they spoke,

“ Last, to enjoy ber sense of feeling, And pro and con by turns they took.

(A thing she much delights to deal in.) Rats half the manuscript have eat:

A thousand little nerves she sends Dire hunger! which we still regret.

Quite to our toes and fingers' ends; 0! may they ne'er again digest

And these, in gratitude, again The horrors of so sad a feast !

Return their spirits to the brain ; Yet less our grief, if what remains,

In which their figure being printed, Dear Jacob,1 by thy care and pains

(As just before, I think, I hinted,) Shall be to future times convey'd.

Alma, inform'd, can try the case,
It thus begins :

As she had been upon the place.
Here Matthew said,

“ Thus, while the judge gives different jonmeyi “ Alma in verse, in prose the Mind,

To country counsel and attorneys, By Aristotle's

He on the bench in quiet sits, defin'd,

pen Throughout the body, squat or tall,

Deciding, as they bring the writs. Is, bonâ fide, all in all.

The pope thus prays and sleeps at Rome And yet, slap-dash, is all again

And very seldom stirs from home : In every sinew, nerve, and vein :

Yet, sending forth his holy spies, Runs here and there, like Hamlet's ghost;

And having heard what they advise, While everywhere she rules the roast.

He rules the church's blest dominions, “ This system, Richard, we are told,

And sets men's faith by his opinions. The men of Oxford firmly hold.

“The scholars of the Stagyrite, The Cambridge wits, you know, deny

Who for the old opinion fight, With ipse dixit to comply.

Would make their modern friends confess They say, (for in good truth they speak

The difference but from more to less. With small respect of that old Greek,)

The Mind, say they, while you sustain That, putting all his words together,

To hold her station in the brain ; "Tis three blue beans in one blue bladdor.

You grant, at least, she is extended : “Alma, they strenuously maintain,

Ergo the whole dispute is ended. Sits cock-horse on her throne, the brain ;

For, till to-morrow should you plead, And from that seat of thought dispenses

From form and structure to the head, Her sovereign pleasure to the senses.

The Mind as visibly is seen Two optic nerves, they say, she ties,

Extended through the whole machine. Like spectacles, across the eyes ;

Why should all honor then be ta'en By which the spirits bring her word,

From lower parts to load the brain. Whene'er the balls are fix'd or stirr'd,

When other limbs, we plainly see, How quick at park and play they strike;

Each in his way as brisk as he? The duke they court; the toast they like;

For music, grant the head receive ii, And at St. James's turn their grace

It is the artist's hand that gave it, From former friends, now out of place.

And, though the skull may wear the laurel “Without these aids, to be more serious,

The soldier's arm sustains the quarrel.
Her power, they hold, had been precarious :

Besides, the nostrils, ears, and eyes,
Are not his parts, but his allies;

Ev'n what you hear the tongue proclaim • Himself. | Mr. Shelton. 1 Tonson. Comes ab origine from them.


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What could the head perform alone,
If all their friendly aids were gone ?
A foolish figure he must make;
Do nothing else but sleep and ache.

“ Nor matters it, that you can show
How to the head the spirits go;
Those spirits started from some goal,
Before they through the veins could roll.
Now, we should hold them much to blame,
If they went back, before they came.

“ If, therefore, as we must suppose,
They came from fingers, and from toes ;
Or teeth, or fingers, in this case,
Of Numskull's self should take the place :
Disputing fair, you grant thus much,
That all sensation is but touch.
Dip but your toes into cold water,
Their correspondent teeth will chatter :
And, strike the bottom of your feet,
You set your head into a heat.
The bully beat, and happy lover,
Confess that feeling lies all over.

“ Note here, Lucretius dares to teach
(As all our youth may learn from Creech)
That eyes were made, but could not view,
Nor hands embrace, nor feet pursue :
But heedless Nature did produce
The members first, and then the use.
What each must act was yet unknown,
Till all is mov'd by Chance alone.

“A man first builds a country-seat,
Then finds the walls not good to eat
Another plants, and wondering sees
Nor books nor medals on his trees.
Yet poet and philosopher
Was he, who durst such whims aver.
Blest, for his sake, be human reason,
That came at all, though late in season.
But no man, sure, e'er left his house,

And saddled Ball, with thoughts so wild,
To bring a midwife to his spouse,

Before he knew she was with child. And no man ever reapt his corn,

Or from the oven drew his bread, Ere hinds and bakers yet were born,

That taught them both to sow and knead. Before they're ask'd, can maids refuse ? Can"_" Pray,” says Dick,“ hold in your Muse. While you Pindaric truths rehearse, She hobbles in alternate verse."“ Verse," Mat replied ; " is that my care !"“Go on," quoth Richard, “ soft and fair.”

“This looks, friend Dick, as Nature had
But exercis'd the salesman's trade;
As if she haply had sat down,
And cut out clothes for all the town ;
Then sent them out to Monmouth-street,
To try what persons they would fit.
But every free and licens'd tailor
Would in this thesis find a failure.
Should whims like these his head perplex,
How could he work for either sex?
His clothes, as atoms might prevail,
Might fit a pismire, or a whale.
No, no: he views with studious pleasure
Your shape, before he takes your measure.
For real Kate he made the bodice,
And not for an ideal goddess.
No error near his shop-board lurk'd ;
He knew the folks for whom he work'd :

Still to their size he aim'd bis skill :
Else, pr’ythee, who would pay his bill ?

Next, Dick, if Chance herself should vary,
Observe, how matters would miscarry :
Across your eyes, friend, place your shoes ;
Your spectacles upon your toes :
Then you and Memmius shall agree
How nicely men would walk, or see.

“But Wisdom, peevish and cross-grain'd,
Must be oppos'd, to be sustain'd;
And still your knowledge will increase,
As you make other people's less.
In arms and science 'tis the same;
Our rival's hurts create our fame.
At Faubert's, if disputes arise
Among the champions for the prize,
To prove who gave the fairer butt,
John shows the chalk on Robert's coat
So, for the honor of your book,
It tells where other folks mistook :
And, as their notions you confound,
Those you invent get farther ground.

“ The commentators on old Ari.
stotle ('tis urg'd) in judgment vary:
They to their own conceits have brought
The image of his general thought;
Just as the melancholic eye
Sees fleets and armies in the sky;
And to the poor apprentice' ear
The bells sound, Whittington, lord-mayor.'
The conjurer thus explains his scheme;
Thus spirits walk, and prophets dream ;
North Britons thus have second-sight;
And Germans, free from gun-shot, fight.

“ Theodoret and Origen,
And fifty other learned men,
Attest, that, if their comments find
The traces of their master's mind,
Alma can ne'er decay nor die:
This flatly t’ other sect deny ;
Simplicius, Theophrast, Durand,
Great names, but hard in verse to stand.
They wonder men should have mistook
The tenets of their master's book,
And hold, that Alma yields her breath,
O'ercome by age, and seiz'd by death.
Now which were wise ? and which were fools ?
Poor Alma sits between two stools :
The more she reads, the more perplext;
The comment ruining the text :
Now fears, now hopes, her doubtful fate :
But, Richard, let her look to that,
Whilst we our own affairs pursue.

These different systems, old or new,
A man with half an eye may see,
Were only formd to disagree.
Now, to bring things to fair conclusion,
And save much Christian ink's effusion,
Let me propose an healing scheme,
And sail along the middle stream ;
For, Dick, if we could reconcile

Old Aristotle with Gassendus,
How many would admire our toil !

And yet how few would comprehend us !

“Here, Richard, let my scheme commence,
Oh! may my words be lost in sense!
While pleas'd Thalia deigns to write
The slips and bounds of Alma's flight.

“My simple system shall suppose That Alma enters at the toes;

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