University of Virginia Library


86

THE SPIDER.

Arachne! poor degraded maid!
Doom'd to obscurity's cold shade,
The price your vanity has paid
Excites my pity.
No wonder you should take alarm,
Lest vengeance in a housewife's form,
Your fortress should attack by storm,
And raze your city.
In truth you are not much befriended,
For since with wisdom you contended,
And the stern Goddess so offended,
Each earthly Pallas

87

Views you with horror and affright,
Shrinks with abhorence from your sight,
Signing your death-warrant in spite,
To pity callous.
You were not cast in Beauty's mould,
You have no shard of burnish'd gold,
No painted wing can you unfold
With gems bespotted.
Your form disgusting to all eyes,
The Toad in ugliness outvies,
And nature has her homeliest guise
To you allotted.
Yet, if with philosophic eye,
The Young would but observe you ply

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Your patient toil, and fortify
Your habitation;
Spreading your net of slenderest twine,
Each artful mesh contriv'd to join,
Strengthening with doubled thread the line
Of circumvallation.
Methinks your curious progress would
Give them a lecture full as good
As some; so little understood,
So much affected.
And as you dart upon your prey,
Might they not moralize and say,
Spiders and Men alike betray
The unprotected?

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Might you not tell the light coquette,
Who spreads for some poor youth her net,
Entangling thus without regret
Her simple lover;
That such ensnares of the heart,
Might in contemplating your art,
Her own unworthy counterpart
In you discover?
Your sober habits then compare,
With those bright insects who repair
To sport and frolick thro' the air,
All gay and winning;
While you your household cares attend,
Your toils no vain pursuits suspend,

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But carefully your nets you mend,
And mind your spinning.
The Butterfly, while life is new,
As he has nothing else to do,
May like a Bond-street beau pursue
His vagrant courses;
But nature to her creatures kind,
You to an humbler fate consign'd,
Yet taught you in yourself to find
Your own resources.