On a bay courser, goodly to behold,
The trappings of his horse adorn'd with barb'rous gold.
Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace;
His furcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace,
Adorn'd with pearls, all orient, round, and great;
His faddle was of gold, with emeralds set,
His shoulders large a mantle did attire,
With rubies thick, and sparkling as the fire :
His amber-colour'd locks in ringlets run,
With graceful negligence, and shone against the fun,
His nose was aquiline, his eyes were blue.
Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue:
Some fprinkled freckles on his face were feen,
Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin:
His awful prefence did the croud furprize,
Nor durft the rash spectator meet his eyes,
Eyes that confefs'd him born for kingly sway,
So fierce, they flath'd intolerable day.
His age in nature's youthful prime appear'd,
And just began to bloom his yellow beard.
Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around,
Loud as a trumpet, with a filver found,
A laurel wreath'd his temples, fresh, and green;
And myrtle fprigs, the marks of love, were mix'd between,
Upon his fift he bore, for his delight,
An eagle well reclaim'd, and lilly white.
His hundred knights attend him to the war,
All arm'd for battle; fave their heads were bare.
Words and devices blaz'd on ev'ry shield,
And pleafing was the terror of the field.
For kings, and dukes, and barons, you might fee,
Like sparkling stars, though different in degree,
All for th' increase of arms, and love of chivalry.
Before the king tame leopards led the way,
And troops of lions innocently play.
So Bacchus thro' the conquer'd Indies rode,
And beafts in gambols frifk'd before their honeft god.
In this array the war of either fide
Through Athens pass'd with military pride.
At prime, they enter'd on the Sunday morn;
Rich tap'stry spread the streets, and flow'rs the postsadorn.
The town was all a jubilee of feafts,
So Theseus will'd, in honour of his guests;
Himself with open arms the king embrac'd,
Then all the rest in their degrees were grac'd.
No harbinger was needful for the night,
For ev'ry house was proud to lodge a knight.
I pass the royal treat, nor must relate
The gifts bestow'd, nor how the champions sate:
Who first, or last, or how the knights address'd
Their vows, or who was fairest at the feast;
Whose voice, whose graceful dance did most surprise 3
Soft am'rous fighs, and filent love of eyes.
The rivals call my Muse another way,
To fing their vigils for the ensuing day.
'Twas ebbing darkness, past the noon of night:
And Phosphor, on the confines of the light;
Promis'd the fun, ere day began to spring;
The tuneful lark already stretch'd her wing,
And flick'ring on her neft, made short effays to fing.
When wakeful Palamon, preventing day,
Took, to the royal lifts, his early way,
To Venus at her fane, in her own house, to pray.
There, falling on his knees before her shrine,
He thus implor'd with pray'rs her pow'r divine.
Creator Venus, genial pow'r of love,
The bliss of men below, and Gods above!
Beneath the sliding fun thou runn'st thy race,
Doft fairest shine, and best become thy place.
For thee the winds their eaftern blasts forbear,
Thy month reveals the spring, and opens all the year.
Thee, Goddess, thee the storms of winter fly,
Earth smiles with flow'rs renewing, laughs the sky,
And birds to lays of love their tuneful notes apply.
For thee the lion loaths the taste of blood, And roaring hunts his female through the wood: For thee the bulls rebellow through the groves, And tempt the stream, and snuff their absent loves. "Tis thine, whate'er is pleasant, good, or fair : All nature is thy province, life thy care : Thou mad'st the world, and dost the world repair. Thou gladder of the mount of Cytheron, Increase of Jove, companion of the sun; If e'er Adonis touch'd thy tender heart, Have pity, Goddess, for thou know'st the smart. Alas! I have not words to tell my grief; To vent my forrow would be some relief; Light suff'rings give us leisure to complain; We groan, but cannot speak, in greater pain. O Goddess, tell thyself what I would say, Thou know'st it, and I feel too much to pray. So grant my fuit, as I enforce my might; In love to be thy champion, and thy knight; A servant to thy sex, a slave to thee, A foe profeft to barren chastity. Nor ask I fame or honour of the field, Nor choose I more to vanquish than to yield : In my divine Emelia make me blest, Let fate, or partial chance, dispose the rest: Find thou the manner, and the means prepare; Poffeffion, more than conqueft, is my care. Mars is the warrior's god; in him it lies, On whom he favors to confer the prize; With fmiling afpect you serenely move In your fifth orb, and rule the realm of love. The fates but only spin the coarfer clue, The finest of the wool is left for you. Spare me but one small portion of the twine, And let the fifters cut below your line : The reft among the rubbish may they sweep, Or add it to the yarn of some old miser's heap.
But, if you this ambitious pray'r deny,
(A wish, I grant, beyond mortality,)
Then let me fink beneath proud Arcite's arms,
And I, once dead, let him possess her charms.
Thus ended he; then, with observance due
The sacred incenfe on her altar threw :
The curling smoke mounts heavy from the fires;
At length it catches flame, and in a blaze expires;
At once the gracious Goddess gave the sign,
Her statue shook, and trembled all the shrine:
Pleas'd Palamon the tardy omen took :
For, fince the flames pursu'd the trailing smoke,,
He knew his boon was granted; but the day
To distance driv'n, and joy adjourn'd with long delay,
Now morn with rosy light had streak'd the sky,
Up rose the fun, and up rose Emily;
Address'd her early steps to Cynthia's fane,
In state attended by her maiden train,
Who bore the vests that holy rites require,
Incense, and od'rous gums, and cover'd fire.
The plenteous horns with pleasant mead they crown,
Nor wanted ought besides in honour of the moon.
Now while the temple smok'd with hallow'd steam,
They wash the virgin in a living streami
The fecret ceremonies I conceal,
Uncouth, perhaps unlawful, to reveal :
But fuch they were as pagan use requir'd,
Perform'd by women when the men retir'd,
Whose eyes profane their chafte mysterious rites
Might turn to scandal, or obscene delights.
Well-meaners think no harm; but for the rest,
Things facred they pervert, and filence is the best.
Her shining hair, uncomb'd, was loosely spread,
A crown of mastless oak adorn'd her head:
When to the shrine approach'd, the spotless maid
Had kindling fires on either altar laid :
(The rites were fuch as were observ'd of old,
By Statius in his Theban story told.)
Then kneeling with her hands across her breaft,
Thus lowly she preferr'd her chaste request.
O Goddess, haunter of the woodland green,
To whom both heav'n and earth and seas are seen ;
Queen of the nether skies, where half the year
Thy filver beams descend, and light the gloomy sphere;
Goddess of maids, and confcious of our hearts,
So keep me from the vengeance of thy darts,
Which Niobe's devoted issue felt,
When hissing through the skies the feather'd deaths were
As I desire to live a virgin life,
Nor know the name of mother or of wife.
Thy votress from my tender years I am,
And love like thee, the woods and sylvan game.
Like death, thou know'st, I loath the nuptial state,
And man, the tyrant of our sex, I hate,
A lowly servant, but a lofty mate;
Where love is duty on the female side;
On their's meer sensual gust, and fought with surly pride.
Now by thy triple shape, as thou art seen
In heav'n, earth, hell, and ev'ry where a queen,
Grant this my first defire; let discord cease,
And make betwixt the rivals lasting peace:
Quench their hot fire, or far from me remove
The flame, and turn it on some other love,
Or if my frowning stars have so decreed,
That one must be rejected, one fucceed,
Make him my lord, within whose faithful breaft
Is fix'd my image, and who loves me best.
But, oh! ev'n that avert! I chuse it not,
But take it as the least unhappy lot.
A maid I am, and of thy virgin train;
Oh, let me still that spotless name retain !
|