University of Virginia Library

Pigmalion and his Iv'ry Statue.

In a lewd Age Pigmalion spent his times,
Women debauch'd themselves with Monstrous Crimes.
No vertuous Virgin in his Days was known,
All the Chast, Female Modesty was gone,
Therefore a long, long time he liv'd alone.
An Iv'ry Statue now at last he Frames,
And from the Maid he form'd, he gathers Flames.
In every part, the Virgin did excel,
Which Limb was best, the Artist could not tell,
It was all Lovely, and he Lov'd it well.
Curious her shape, so sparkling were her Eyes,
Such quick, such glancing brightness in them lies,
They would have roll'd, but that her shame denies.
Such lively strokes he to the Maid did give,
That, tho' a Statue, she appear'd to live.
The Artist's self that she had Life believ'd,
And fondly was by his own Art deceiv'd.
He felt her flesh, for he suppos'd it such,
And fear'd to hurt her, with too rude a touch.
Often he Kiss'd her, while he madly burn'd,
And fancy'd now, how she the like return'd.
He Wooes her, Sighs, and her fair Hands does press,
And tells his Passion in a Dear Address.
Till at the last, his Notions grew so vain,
That he believ'd she sigh'd, and prest again.
He sends her presents, Gums, and precious Stones,
The choicest Bracelets, and bright, glitt'ring Zones.
Soft singing Birds, which flutt'ring all around,
With pretty Notes, rais'd a delightful sound.
Rich Pendants, Rings, and Gums he sends the Maid,
With Wreaths of flow'rs adorns her Lovely Head,
And lays her now, soft on a Downy Bed.
In Pompous Robes he does his Idol Dress;
Much so she Charms, but not, when naked, less.
Now was the time, when Venus kept her Feast,
And Love-sick Youths to her fam'd Temple prest.
There to be offer'd, Snowy Heifers come,
And the rich Altar smoaks with pretious Gum.
Among the Crowd the hopeless Lover goes,
Tho' no Just reason, or pretence he knows.
Before the Altar, now he weeping stands,
And Bows, with Off'rings in his careful hands.
Fiercer, and Fiercer his desires grow there,
And rise more furious, from his wild Despair.
A long, long time does he forbear to pray,
For still his doubts deny'd his Speech the way,
Yet wish'd (altho' he knew not why) to stay.
At last, his fearful silence now he Breaks,
And thus, but still in mighty fear, he speaks.
If you, Love's Beauteous, Charming Goddess, have,
And can bestow what Mortal suppliants Crave.
Shew now your Pow'r, on me your Blessings shed,
Grant me the Wife I wish, one like, he said,
But durst not say, grant me my Iv'ry Maid.
This done, he thrice percieves the flashing Fires,
The happy Omen blest his fond desires,
And to the Maid he now with doubtful Joy retires.
With wond'rous longings he in hast returns,
And now, more fiercely than before, he burns,
Closely he claspt her to his panting Breast,
And felt her softer still, the more he prest.
Now, all at once, with a surprize of bliss,
He finds her Lips grow warmer with his Kiss,
He finds them Moist, and Soft, and Red as his.
Her throbbing Breasts heav'd now, and gently swell'd,
While he with wonder the Lov'd sight beheld.
The Maid, now Fairer, in his Arms he bore,
Tho' fram'd of Iv'ry, polish'd fine before.
Let none henceforth of wish'd success Despair,
When Statues soften'd by our Passions are.
The happy Artist, now perceives his Wife
With beating Pulses, and with perfect Life.
And, for a while, as Motionless he stood,
As she had done, e'er she grew Flesh and Blood.
Her Lover first she with the light descrys,
For which she Checks, and turns her bashful Eyes,
While in her blooming Face her Beauteous Blushes rise.