Part 6 (1/2)

While thus Cadenus entertains Vanessa in exalted strains, The nymph in sober words intreats A truce with all sublime conceits.

For why such raptures, flights, and fancies, To her who durst not read romances; In lofty style to make replies, Which he had taught her to despise?

But when her tutor will affect Devotion, duty, and respect, He fairly abdicates his throne, The government is now her own; He has a forfeiture incurred, She vows to take him at his word, And hopes he will not take it strange If both should now their stations change The nymph will have her turn, to be The tutor; and the pupil he: Though she already can discern Her scholar is not apt to learn; Or wants capacity to reach The science she designs to teach; Wherein his genius was below The skill of every common beau; Who, though he cannot spell, is wise Enough to read a lady's eyes?

And will each accidental glance Interpret for a kind advance.

But what success Vanessa met Is to the world a secret yet; Whether the nymph, to please her swain, Talks in a high romantic strain; Or whether he at last descends To like with less seraphic ends; Or to compound the bus'ness, whether They temper love and books together; Must never to mankind be told, Nor shall the conscious muse unfold.

Meantime the mournful queen of love Led but a weary life above.

She ventures now to leave the skies, Grown by Vanessa's conduct wise.

For though by one perverse event Pallas had crossed her first intent, Though her design was not obtained, Yet had she much experience gained; And, by the project vainly tried, Could better now the cause decide.

She gave due notice that both parties, _Coram Regina prox' die Martis_, Should at their peril without fail Come and appear, and save their bail.

All met, and silence thrice proclaimed, One lawyer to each side was named.

The judge discovered in her face Resentments for her late disgrace; And, full of anger, shame, and grief, Directed them to mind their brief; Nor spend their time to show their reading, She'd have a summary proceeding.

She gathered under every head, The sum of what each lawyer said; Gave her own reasons last; and then Decreed the cause against the men.

But, in a weighty case like this, To show she did not judge amiss, Which evil tongues might else report, She made a speech in open court; Wherein she grievously complains, ”How she was cheated by the swains.”

On whose pet.i.tion (humbly showing That women were not worth the wooing, And that unless the s.e.x would mend, The race of lovers soon must end); ”She was at Lord knows what expense, To form a nymph of wit and sense; A model for her s.e.x designed, Who never could one lover find, She saw her favour was misplaced; The follows had a wretched taste; She needs must tell them to their face, They were a senseless, stupid race; And were she to begin again, She'd study to reform the men; Or add some grains of folly more To women than they had before.

To put them on an equal foot; And this, or nothing else, would do't.

This might their mutual fancy strike, Since every being loves its like.

But now, repenting what was done, She left all business to her son; She puts the world in his possession, And let him use it at discretion.”

The crier was ordered to dismiss The court, so made his last O yes!

The G.o.ddess would no longer wait, But rising from her chair of state, Left all below at six and seven, Harnessed her doves, and flew to Heaven.

STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1718.

Stella this day is thirty-four (We shan't dispute a year or more) However, Stella, be not troubled, Although thy size and years are doubled Since first I saw thee at sixteen, The brightest virgin on the green.

So little is thy form declined; Made up so largely in thy mind.

Oh, would it please the G.o.ds to split Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit, No age could furnish out a pair Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair: With half the l.u.s.tre of your eyes, With half your wit, your years, and size.

And then, before it grew too late, How should I beg of gentle fate, (That either nymph might lack her swain), To split my wors.h.i.+p too in twain.

STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1720.

All travellers at first incline Where'er they see the fairest sign; And if they find the chambers neat, And like the liquor and the meat, Will call again and recommend The Angel Inn to every friend What though the painting grows decayed, The house will never lose its trade: Nay, though the treach'rous tapster Thomas Hangs a new angel two doors from us, As fine as daubers' hands can make it, In hopes that strangers may mistake it, We think it both a shame and sin, To quit the true old Angel Inn.

Now, this is Stella's case in fact, An angel's face, a little cracked (Could poets, or could painters fix How angels look at, thirty-six): This drew us in at first, to find In such a form an angel's mind; And every virtue now supplies The fainting rays of Stella's eyes.

See, at her levee, crowding swains, Whom Stella freely entertains, With breeding, humour, wit, and sense; And puts them but to small expense; Their mind so plentifully fills, And makes such reasonable bills, So little gets for what she gives, We really wonder how she lives!

And had her stock been less, no doubt, She must have long ago run out.