University of Virginia Library

In days of yore when mother Earth,
Teem'd with a race of loftier birth,
When every spring a Nymph embrac'd,
And every grove a Dryad grac'd,
When every brook a Naiad trod,
And every river claim'd its God—
When Poets, like our modern kings,
Made lofty persons out of things,
And with a flourish of the pen,
Converted ideas into men—
Nature and Art, once met by chance,
Guests at a rural country dance.
Yet how the latter happen'd there,
In faith I neither know nor care.
But there he was, a welcome guest,
And looker-on among the rest.
The strangers fell to friendly chat,
As mortals do, of this and that,
Matters of policy and state,
The little, and the little great,
The fall of states, the rise of kings,
And such like immaterial things.
Or else they talk'd a little scandal,
For which dame Venus gave a handle,
Who as the beauty of her sphere,
Pays the same price that belles do here.
Just like the sun, whose spots and stains
Are noted down with learned pains.
Or in a whisper slily told,
How Juno was an arrant scold,
And Jove, in spite of his dread nod,
A most ignoble henpeck'd god.

From this they glanc'd toward the throng
Of rosy maids that tript along,
In merry maze to music's sound,
And hardly seem'd to touch the ground—
So merrily they play'd their parts,
So blithesome was their buxom hearts,
Ere yet the withering blight of care,
Had kill'd the rose that budded there.
Nature admir'd a rural maid
That never from her home had stray'd,
But bred midst books, in lonely bower,
Had blossom'd like some modest flower,
Unseen, unknown, and unadmir'd,
Unwooed, unflatter'd, undesir'd.
But Art, selected for his belle
One who his precepts knew full well,
Who studied all her witching smiles,
And practis'd all the city wiles,
Whose every look and action too,
Was such as Nature never knew.

This difference, as well it might,
Soon led them to dispute outright,
If Nature's bloom or polish'd Art,
Best claim'd the homage of the heart,
And as the wrathful pair contended,
In wordy war that ne'er had ended,
They saw at distance in the grove
The gods of Marriage and of Love,
Just coming from a rural wedding,
And quick toward the dancers treading.
As they advanc'd the conscious grove
In whispers greeted rosy Love:
The birds in softer numbers sung,
The rocks with sweeter echoes rung,
The flowers put forth their freshest bloom,
The air became one rich perfume,
The brook that gurgled through the shade
A gentler, soothing murmur made,
Young Zephyr, drunk with am'rous bliss,
Gave every leaf a balmy kiss,
And Nature, like a lusty boy,
Sprung up and clapt her hands for joy.

Love, like a wild and wayward child,
With idle sports his way beguil'd,
And oft would leave the beaten track,
Till sober Hymen call'd him back.
Sometimes a rolling hoop he'd drive,
Or catch a butterfly alive,
Or when Dan Hymen's back was turn'd,
He snatch'd his torch that brightly burn'd,
And to extinguish it essay'd
In brook that murmur'd through the glade.
Sometimes he bent his desp'rate bow,
In wrath to lay some insect low,
And as he twang'd the golden string,
Would flap his little purple wing,
To see the arrow cut its way,
And butterfly or beetle slay.
Anon, the towering Eagle's flight
He watch'd with keen and wary sight,
And as the lofty monarch wound
In airy circles round and round,
Would lanch his quiv'ring arrow forth,
And strike him headlong to the earth.
Like playful boy the urchin seem'd,
Yet in his eye the Godhead beam'd.

Young Hymen look'd of lofty race,
Sober his step, and mild his face;
No boiling passions eddied there,
No withering scowl, or anxious care,
But in his eye, serene and mild,
Contentment bask'd, and sweetly smil'd.
A fillet bound his auburn hair,
That curl'd about his forehead fair,
A purple robe around him flow'd,
With rosy tint his cheek all glow'd,
And in his hand, of dazzling white,
He bore a torch celestial bright.

To these, the wrangling pair referr'd
The question you have just now heard,
And crav'd their Godships' high opinion,
Which o'er the heart best claim'd dominion:
She, who to Nature's precepts true,
No other guidance ever knew,
Or she, who at the shrine of Art
Had offer'd up her virgin heart.
The maids were call'd to stand the test,
Of their two Godships' high behest.

One tripping came with studied air,
With elbows, and et cetera bare,
And dress that told the gazer well,
What dress should never dare to tell.
Each step, each action, every look
Was studied in Art's secret book;
Her wand'ring, discontented eye
Glanc'd round and round, in hope to spy
Among the throng that gather'd there,
The buck's bold glance, the booby stare,
The silent, deep admiring pause,
Or hear the buzz of sweet applause
That thrills in Vanity's quick ear
And makes her brightest heaven here.
Upon her cheek of painted snow,
No changeful blush was seen to glow,
But one unvarying, dazzling glare
From morn till night abided there,
For no emotion of the heart
E'er ting'd that cold and senseless part.
'Twas her delight to lure the youth,
And make him break his plighted truth,
Then leave the baffled fool to prove
The pangs of conscience and of love—
To mourn the ill-starr'd luckless hour
He felt the cold seducer's power,
And bound in Art's most vulgar spell,
Broke the true heart that lov'd him well
To the bright pair she “louted low,”
Betwixt a curtsy and a bow,
And looking round with studied smile,
Essay'd some coxcomb to beguile.

Young Hymen eyed the nymph askance,
And Cupid cast a careless glance,
But not a single smile was there,
To greet the cold, conceited fair,
Who sat her down as legends tell us,
And mutter'd, “two such vulgar fellows!”

Next Nature, her pure taste to prove,
Beckon'd her pupil from the grove,
Where modestly she sat retir'd
Afraid to come and be admir'd.
With downcast eyes the virgin came,
While soft emotions shook her frame,
And modesty, and maiden pride,
Struggled the mantling cheek to hide,
That told the blood which floated there
Was pure, as she was bright and fair.
White was her robe that well conceal'd,
What Art's keen vot'ry had reveal'd;
No bold unblushing bosom there,
Wooed the volupt'ry's gloting stare,
Yet Fancy pictur'd all full well,
What caus'd that gentle panting swell.
No beauty seen, but a fair face
That shone in Nature's blooming grace—
Two hands as white as driven snow,
Two little feet that peep'd below,
Just serv'd to tell, that what was hid,
What was display'd by far outdid.
Was nothing here, to lure the eye
Of idle coxcomb lounging by;
No half side glance, or dauntless stare,
Or well conn'd attitude was there,
No charm obtrusively display'd,
Or careless as by chance betray'd.
She came like sweet and balmy eve,
When sunbeams all the landscape leave—
And soft'ning shades and purple hues,
A sweet and mellow charm diffuse,
That blends in one harmonious whole—
A scene that melts the gazer's soul.
For so it was, the careless eye
Oft pass'd this gentle maiden by,
But those who watch'd her winning way,
If they had souls, soon felt her sway.
And in the end it ever prov'd,
The more they look'd the more they lov'd.
So she approach'd th' admiring pair,
With downcast look and modest air,
Knelt at young Love and Hymen's feet,
Then sought a low and lonely seat.

Now crav'd the disputatious pair,
Decision from their worships' chair.
Dan Cupid, then with judge-like face,
First gave opinion on the case,
Since all reports and records prove,
That precedence is due to Love,
In cases of this special kind,
Because like Justice, Love is blind;
That is to say, is blind to all
The faults that to dear woman fall.

“The maid, whose manners are retir'd,
“Who patient waits to be admir'd,
“Though overlook'd perhaps awhile,
“Her modest worth, her modest smile,
“This be her fate, or soon or late,
“To gain a true, and faithful mate,
“Who when the spring of life is gone,
“And all its blooming product flown,
“When butterflies have ta'en their flight,
“And moths flit to some newer light,
“Will bless old Time, who left behind
“The graces of a virtuous mind,
“That as the body's bloom decay'd,
“An ample retribution made—
“By adding every passing hour,
“To that pure mind's resistless power.
“But she—who seeks in vapid crowd—
“To gain all hearts by prating loud—
“And each obtrusive art assays,
“To catch the universal gaze,
“This be the end of all her art,
“Never to win, or wear a heart:
“To worry on from day to day,
“And waste each charm of youth away;
“In search of worthless joys to roam
“Far from her friends and native home,
“To catch the coxcomb's idle gaze—
“Who flutters round her heatless blaze—
“But never feels one wish to prove
“With her the joys of virtuous love;
“To starve her heart, to feed her pride,
“And make herself so often spied,
“That like the sun we see all day,
“She shines unheeded on our way,
“Or palls us with such glaring light,
“We languish for the shades of night;
“This be the diff'rence in the two,
“One wooes all men—one all men woo.”

Hymen vouchsaf'd the boy a nod—
As he approv'd the rosy god—
And with severe and manly grace,
His verdict gave in this clear case:

“Men gaze on Beauty for a while,
“Allur'd by artificial smile,
“But Love shall never twang his dart
“From any string that's form'd by Art.
“'Tis Nature moulds the touching face,
“'Tis she that gives the living grace,
“The genuine charm that never dies,
“The modest air, the timid eyes,
“The stealing glance, that wins its way
“To where the soul's affections lay;
“'Tis Nature, and 'tis she alone
“That gives the bright celestial zone,
“Which virgin Venus blushing wore,
“When first she touch'd gay Cyprus' shore;
“And ere she sought her destin'd skies
“Charm'd every wondering gazer's eyes—
“The zone of modesty, the charm
“That coldest hearts can quick disarm,
“Which all our best affections gains,
“And gaining, ever still retains.”

Then beckon'd he the blushing maid,
Who modestly at distance staid,
And reaching forth his snowy hand,
Address'd her thus in accents bland:
“Be thine the blissful lot to know
“A partner both in weal and wo;
“One who when friends shall fall around
“Like dry leaves on the barren ground,
“When father, mother, all are dead—
“And every youthful friend is fled,
“Will well supply their tenderness,
“With every act of kindness bless,
“Be unto thee, when they are gone,
“Parent, friend, lover, all in one,
“And when he looks on thee, sweet maid,
“Think all his cares are richly paid.
“But thou,” and with a withering look,
His torch he at the other shook,
Then quench'd it in the babbling brook—
“Be thine, to live, and never know
“Sweet Sympathy in joy or wo,
“To see Time rob thee, one by one,
“Of every charm thou e'er hast known,
“To see the moth that round thee came,
“Flit to some newer, brighter flame,
“And never know thy destin'd fate,
“Till to retrieve it is too late;
“Be thine to miss each well known face,
“And charm no new ones in their place;
“To see thy friends from life all hurl'd,
“And feel a desert in this world;
“To die, nor leave one soul to weep,
“And in the grave forgotten sleep,
“Thy spirit doom'd to wander forth,
“Curs'd with the passions of this earth,
“A viewless spectre every where,
“To witness joys thou canst not share,
“The bride's long nights of virtuous bliss,
“The lover's, and the mother's kiss,
“And thus eternal years to pine
“For transports that shall ne'er be thine.”

This said, pleas'd Nature sought the shade,
And thither led the blushing maid;
Art to the city bent his way,
To try his luck some other day;
Hymen to bind the wounds of love,
And Cupid, to the realms above.