The works of Allan Ramsay :: :: University of Virginia Library

Such killing Looks, so thick the Arrows fly,
That 'tis unsafe to be a Stander by:
Poets approaching to describe the Fight,
Are by their Wounds instructed how to write.
Waller, 130.

When silent Show'rs refresh the pregnant Soil,
And tender Sallats eat with Tuscan Oil,
Harmonious Musick gladens ev'ry Grove,
While bleating Lambkins from their Parents rove,
And o'er the Plain the anxious Mothers stray,
Calling their tender Care with hoarser Bae.
Now cheerful Zephyr from the Western Skies
With easy Flight o'er painted Meadows flies,
To kiss his Flora with a gentle Air,
Who yields to his Embrace, and looks more fair.

When from Debauch with sp'rituous Juice opprest,
The Sons of Bacchus stagger home to Rest,
With tatted Wigs, foul Shoes, and uncock'd Hats,
And all bedaub'd with Snuff their loose Cravats.
The Sun began to sip the morning Dew,
As Damon from his restless Pillow flew.

Him late from Celia's Cheek a Patch did wound,
A Patch high seated on the blushing Round.
His painful Thoughts all Night forbid him Rest,
And he employ'd that Night as one opprest;

Musing Revenge, and how to countermine
The strongest Force, and ev'ry deep Design
Of Patches, Fans, of Necklaces and Rings,
Ev'n Musick's Pow'r, when Celia plays or sings.

Fatigu'd with running Errands all the Day,
Happy in want of Thought his Valet lay,
Recruiting Strength with Sleep.—His Master calls,
He starts with lock'd up Eyes, and beats the Walls.
A second Thunder rouses up the Sot,
He yawns and murmurs Curses through his Throat:
Stockings awry, and Breeches-knees unlac'd,
And Buttons do mistake their Holes for Haste.
His Master raves,—cries, Roger, make Dispatch,
Time flies apace. He frown'd, and lookt his Watch:
Haste, do my Wig, ty't with the careless Knots,
And run to Civet's, let him fill my Box.
Go to my Laundress, see what makes her stay,
And call a Coach and Barber in your Way.

Thus Orders justle Orders in a Throng:
Roger with laden Mem'ry trots along.
His Errands done; with Brushes next he must
Renew his Toil amidst perfuming Dust;
The yielding Comb he leads with artful Care,
Through crook'd Meanders of the flaxen Hair:
E'er this perform'd he's almost chok'd to Death,
The Air is thicken'd, and he pants for Breath.
The Trav'ler thus in the Numidian Plains,
A Conflict with the driving Sands sustains.

Two Hours are past, and Damon is equipt,
Pensive he stalks, and meditates the Fight:
Arm'd Cap-a-pee, in Dress a killing Beau,
Thrice view'd his Glass, and thrice resolv'd to go,
Flusht full of Hope to overcome his Foe.
His early Pray'rs were all to Paphos sent,
That Jove's Sea-daughter would give her Consent:

Cry'd, Send thy little Son unto my Aid.
Then took his Hat, tript out, and no more said.

What lofty Thoughts do sometimes push a Man
Beyond the Verge of his own native Span!
Keep low thy Thoughts, frail Clay, nor boast thy Pow'r;
Fate will be Fate: And since there's nothing sure,
Vex not thy self too much, but catch th'auspicious Hour.

The tow'ring Lark had thrice his Mattins sung,
And thrice were Bells for pious Service rung.
In Plaids wrapt up, Prudes throng the sacred Dome,
And leave the spacious Petticoat at Home:
While softest Dreams seal'd up fair Celia's Eyes,
She dreams of Damon, and forgets to rise.
A sportive Sylph contrives the subtile Snare,
Sylphs know the charming Baits which catch the Fair;
She shews him handsome, brawny, rich and young,
With Snuff-box, Cane, and Sword-knot finely hung,
Well skill'd in Airs of Dangle, Toss and Rap,
Those Graces which the tender Hearts entrap.

Where Aulus oft makes Law for Justice pass,
And charles's Statue stands in lasting Brass,
Amidst a lofty Square which strikes the Sight,
With spacious Fabricks of stupendous Hight;
Whose sublime Roofs in Clouds advance so high,
They seem the Watch-tow'rs of the nether Sky;
Where once Alas! where once the Three Estates
Of Scotland's Parliament held free Debates:
Here Celia dwelt, and here did Damon move,
Press'd by his rigid Fate, and raging Love.

To her Apartment straight the daring Swain
Approach'd, and softly knock'd, nor knock'd in vain.
The Nymph new wak'd starts from the lazy Down,
And rolls her gentle Limbs in Morning-Gown:
But half-awake, she judges it must be
Frankalia come to take her Morning Tea;

Cries, Welcome, Cousin. But she soon began
To change her Visage, when she saw a Man:
Her unfixt Eyes with various Turnings range,
And pale Surprise to modest Red exchange:
Doubtful 'twixt Modesty and Love she stands,
Then ask'd the bold Impertinent's Demands.
Her Strokes are doubled, and the Youth now found
His Pains increase, and open ev'ry Wound.
Who can describe the Charms of loose Attire?
Who can resist the Flames with which they fire?
Ah, barbarous Maid! he cries, sure native Charms
Are too too much: Why then such Store of Arms?
Madam, I come, prompt by th'uneasy Pains,
Caus'd by a Wound from you, and want Revenge;
A borrow'd Pow'r was posted on a Charm:
A Patch, damn'd Patch! Can Patches work such Harm?

He said; then threw a Bomb, lay hid within
Love's Mortar-piece, the Dimple of his Chin:
It miss'd for once, she lifted up her Head,
And blush'd a Smile, that almost stuck him dead,
Then cunningly retir'd, but he pursu'd
Near to the Toilet, where the War renew'd.
Thus the great Fabius often gain'd the Day
O'er Hannibal, by frequent giving Way:
So warlike Bruce and Wallace sometimes deign'd
To seem defeat, yet certain Conquest gain'd.

Thus was he led in midst of Celia's Room,
Speechless he stood, and waited for his Doom:
Words were but vain, he scarce could use his Breath,
As round he view'd the Implements of Death.
Her dreadful Arms in careless Heaps were laid
In gay Disorder round her tumbled Bed:
He often to the soft Retreat would stare,
Still wishing he might give the Battel there.
Stunn'd with the Thought, his wand'ring Looks did stray
To where lac'd Shoes and her silk Stockings lay,
And Garters which are never seen by Day.

His dazl'd Eyes almost deserted Light;
No Man before had ever got the Sight,
A Lady's Garters, Earth! their very Name,
Tho yet unseen, sets all the Soul on Flame.
The Royal Ned knew well their mighty Charms,
Else he'd ne'er hoop'd one round the English Arms.
Let barb'rous Honours crown the Sword and Lance,
Thou next their King does British Knights advance,
O Garter! Honi soit qui mal y pense.

O who can all these hidden Turns relate,
That do attend on a rash Lover's Fate!
In deep Distress the Youth turn'd up his Eyes,
As if to ask Assistance from the Skies.
The Petticoat was hanging on a Pin,
Which the unlucky Swain star'd up within:
His curious Eyes too daringly did rove,
Around this oval conick Vault of Love:
Himself alone can tell the Pain he found,
While his wild Sight survey'd forbidden Ground.
He view'd the ten-fold Fence, and gave a Grone,
His trembling Limbs bespoke his Courage gone:
Stupid and pale he stood, like Statue dumb,
The amber Snuff dropt from his careless Thumb.
Be silent here, my Muse, and shun a Plea
May rise betwixt old Bickerstaff and me;
For none may touch a Petticoat but he.

Damon thus foil'd, breath'd with a dying Tone,
Assist ye Powers of Love, else I am gone.
The ardent Pray'r soon reach'd the Cyprian Grove,
Heard and accepted by the Queen of Love.
Fate was propitious too, her Son was by,
Who 'midst his dread Artillery did ly
Of Flanders Lace, and Straps of curious Dy.
On India Muslin Shades the God did loll,
His head reclin'd upon a tinsy Roll.

The Mother Goddess thus her Son bespoke,
“Thou must, my Boy, assume the Shape of Shock,
“And leap to Celia's Lap; whence thou may slip
“Thy Paw up to her Breast, and reach her Lip:
“Strike deep thy Charms, thy pow'rful Art display,
“To make young Damon Conqueror to Day.
“Thou need not blush to change thy Shape, since Jove
“Try'd most of brutal Forms to gain his Love;
“Who that he might his loud [lovéd?] Saturnia gull,
“For fair Europa's Sake inform'd a Bull.

She spoke—Not quicker does the Lamp of Day
Dart on the Mountain Tops a gilded Ray,
Swifter than Lightning flies before the Clap,
From Cyprus Isle he reach'd Celia's Lap:
Now fawns, now wags his Tail, and licks her Arm;
She hugs him to her Breast, nor dreads the Harm.
So in Ascanius Shape, the God unseen
Of old deceiv'd the Carthaginian Queen.

So now the subtile Pow'r his Time espies,
And threw two barbed Darts in Celia's Eyes:
Many were broke before he cou'd succeed;
But that of Gold flew whizzing through her Head:
These were his last Reserve.—When others fail,
Then the refulgent Metal must prevail.
Pleasure produc'd by Money now appears,
Coaches and Six run rattling in her Ears.
O Liv'ry Men! Attendants! Houshold-plate!
Court-posts and Visits! pompous Air and State!
How can your Splendor easy Access find,
And gently captivate the fair one's Mind?
Success attends, Cupid has plaid his Part,
And sunk the pow'rful Venom to her Heart.
She cou'd no more, she's catched in the Snare,
Sighing she fainted in her easy Chair.
No more the sanguine Streams in Blushes glow,
But to support the Heart all inward flow,
Leaving the Cheek as cold and white as Snow.

Thus Celia fell, or rather thus did rise:
Thus Damon made, or else was made a Prize;
For both were Conquerors, and both did yield,
First she, now he, is Master of the Field.

Now he resumes fresh Life, abandons Fear,
Jumps to his Limbs, and does more gay appear.
Not gaming Heir when his rich Parent dies,
Not Zealot reading Hackney's Party-lies,
Not soft Fifeteen on her Feet-washing Night,
Not Poet when his Muse sublimes her Flight,
Not an old Maid for some young Beauty's Fall,
Not the long tending Stibler at his Call,
Not Husband-man in Drought when Rain descends,
Not Miss when Limberham his Purse extends,
E'er knew such Raptures as this joyful Swain,
When yielding, dying Celia calm'd his Pain.
The rapid Joys now in such Torrents roul,
That scarce his Organs can retain his Soul.

Victor he's gen'rous, courts the Fair's Esteem,
And takes a Bason fill'd with limpid Stream,
Then from his Fingers form'd an artful Rain,
Which rouz'd the dormant Spirits of her Brain,
And made the purple Channels flow again.
She lives, he sings; she smiles, and looks more tame:
Now Peace and Friendship is the only Theme.

The Muse owns freely here she does not know
If Language pass'd between the Belle and Beau,
Or if in Courtship such use Words or no.
But sure it is there was a Parley beat,
And mutual Love finisht the proud Debate.
Then to complete the Peace and seal the Bliss,
He for a Diamond Ring receiv'd a Kiss

Of her soft Hand.—Next the aspiring Youth,
With eager Transports press'd her glowing Mouth.
So by Degrees the Eagles teach their Young
To mount on high and stare upon the Sun.

A sumptuous Entertainment crowns the War,
And all rich Requisites are brought from far.
The Table boasts its being from Japan,
Th'ingenious Work of some great Artisan.
China, where Potters coarsest Mould refine,
That Rays through the transparent Vessels shine;
The costly Plates and Dishes are from thence,
And Amazonia must her Sweets dispence;
To her warm Banks our Vessels cut the Main,
For the sweet Product of her luscious Cane.
Here Scotia does no costly Tribute bring,
Only some Kettles full of Todian Spring.

Where Indus and the double Ganges flow,
On odorif'rous Plains the Leaves do grow,
Chief of the Treat, a Plant the Boast of Fame,
Sometimes call'd Green, Bohea's its greater Name.

O happiest of Herbs! Who would not be
Pythagoriz'd into the Form of thee,
And with high Transports act the Part of Tea?
Kisses on thee the haughty Belles bestow,
While in thy Steams their coral Lips do glow;
Thy Vertues and thy Flavour they commend,
While Men, even Beaux, with parched Lips attend.

EPILOGUE.

The Curtain's drawn: Now gen'rous Reader say,
Have ye not read worse Numbers in a Play?
Sure here is Plot, Place, Character and Time,
All smoothly wrought in good firm British Rhime.
I own 'tis but a Sample of my Lays,
Which asks the Civil Sanction of your Praise.
Bestow't with Freedom, let your Praise be ample,
And I my self will show you good Example.
Keep up your Face, altho dull Criticks squint,
And cry, with empty Nod, There's Nothing in't:
They only mean there's Nothing they can use;
Because they find most where there's most Refuse.

Edward III, King of England who established the most honourable Order of the Garter.

A Probationer.

A kind Keeper.

It being alledged that the Eloquence of this Specie lies in the Elegance of Dress.

A famous River in South America, whence we have our Sugar.

Tod's-Well, which supplies the City with Water.