The Works of Hildebrand Jacob ... Containing Poems on Various Subjects, and Occasions; With the Fatal Constancy, a Tragedy; and Several Pieces in Prose. The Greatest Part Never Before Publish'd |
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 | The Works of Hildebrand Jacob |  |
TALE I. Apollo 's Stratagem:
or BUTTON Unmasqued.
In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas
Corpora—
Ovid. Metam
Corpora—
Ovid. Metam
Apollo
, kindly looking down
On Wit's Decay in this dull Town,
Its further Ruin to prevent,
Resolv'd on this Expedient.
To Him he call'd an Emissary,
Whom he employ'd to fetch, and carry;
A lackquay Spirit, sent sometimes
To costive Bards to whisper Rhimes,
To ease desponding Sonneteer,
Or twitch Lampooner by the Ear.
On Wit's Decay in this dull Town,
Its further Ruin to prevent,
Resolv'd on this Expedient.
To Him he call'd an Emissary,
Whom he employ'd to fetch, and carry;
72
To costive Bards to whisper Rhimes,
To ease desponding Sonneteer,
Or twitch Lampooner by the Ear.
Fantome, said he, you've now a Task,
Which does no little Labour ask;
'Twill try your Skill, and Duty, more
Than all your Errands heretofore:
Know, I intend to make you Warden
Of all the Wits of Covent-Garden,
And, by that means, to give new Birth
To Ingenuity on Earth.
Haste then, unto your Ward repair;
Assume some heavy Mortal's Air;
Let your pretended Business be
Retailing Coffee, Snuff, and Tea:
Tuck a blue Apron by your Side;
Pots, Cups, and Kettles strait provide,
With all your necessary Ware;
Put leave their filling to my Care.
Your Water daily will I bring
From Helicon's inspiring Spring;
Bards shall no sooner taste, but Sing.
From thence e'en Ideots shall grow wise,
And they who scarce cou'd Spell, shall rise
At once, to Write, and Criticise.
Dunces shall lay out Tragic Plots,
And Comedies be penn'd by Sots.
Songs, Madrigals, and all that Train
Of lesser Infants of the Brain,
Spontaneously from every Head
Shall spring, like Flies on Dunghills bred.
All who are Wits, or wou'd be so,
To taste your wond'rous Springs will go,
And I shall be rever'd below.
Let Button be your Earthly Name;
Button's shall be Apollo's Fane.
Which does no little Labour ask;
'Twill try your Skill, and Duty, more
Than all your Errands heretofore:
Know, I intend to make you Warden
Of all the Wits of Covent-Garden,
And, by that means, to give new Birth
To Ingenuity on Earth.
Haste then, unto your Ward repair;
Assume some heavy Mortal's Air;
Let your pretended Business be
Retailing Coffee, Snuff, and Tea:
Tuck a blue Apron by your Side;
Pots, Cups, and Kettles strait provide,
With all your necessary Ware;
Put leave their filling to my Care.
73
From Helicon's inspiring Spring;
Bards shall no sooner taste, but Sing.
From thence e'en Ideots shall grow wise,
And they who scarce cou'd Spell, shall rise
At once, to Write, and Criticise.
Dunces shall lay out Tragic Plots,
And Comedies be penn'd by Sots.
Songs, Madrigals, and all that Train
Of lesser Infants of the Brain,
Spontaneously from every Head
Shall spring, like Flies on Dunghills bred.
All who are Wits, or wou'd be so,
To taste your wond'rous Springs will go,
And I shall be rever'd below.
Let Button be your Earthly Name;
Button's shall be Apollo's Fane.
When this was first publish'd, Button's Coffee-House, near Covent-Garden, was famous for the Resort of the Wits of the Town.
74
TALE II. The curious Maid.
Obstupuit, steteruntque comæ—
Beauty's a gaudy Sign, no more,
To tempt the Gazer to the Door;
Within the Entertainment lies,
Far off remov'd from Vulgar Eyes.
To tempt the Gazer to the Door;
Within the Entertainment lies,
Far off remov'd from Vulgar Eyes.
Thus Cloë beautiful, and gay,
As on her Bed the Wanton lay,
Hardly awake from Dreaming o'er
Her Conquests of the Day before.
As on her Bed the Wanton lay,
Hardly awake from Dreaming o'er
Her Conquests of the Day before.
And what's this hidden Charm? (she cry'd)
And spurn'd th' embracing Clothes aside
From Limbs of such a Shape, and Hue,
As Titian's Pencil never drew,
Resolv'd the dark Abode to trace,
Of Female Honour, or Disgrace,
Where Virtue finds her Talk too hard,
And often Slumbers on the Guard.
And spurn'd th' embracing Clothes aside
From Limbs of such a Shape, and Hue,
As Titian's Pencil never drew,
75
Of Female Honour, or Disgrace,
Where Virtue finds her Talk too hard,
And often Slumbers on the Guard.
Th' Attempt She makes, and buckles to
With all her Might; but 'twon'd not do:
Still, as She bent, the Part requir'd,
As conscious of its Shame, retir'd.
What's to be done; we're all a-ground!
Some other Method must be found—
Water Narcissus Face cou'd show,
And why not Cloe's Charms below?
Big with this Project, She applies
The Jordan to her Virgin Thighs;
But the dull Lake her Wish denies.
With all her Might; but 'twon'd not do:
Still, as She bent, the Part requir'd,
As conscious of its Shame, retir'd.
What's to be done; we're all a-ground!
Some other Method must be found—
Water Narcissus Face cou'd show,
And why not Cloe's Charms below?
Big with this Project, She applies
The Jordan to her Virgin Thighs;
But the dull Lake her Wish denies.
What Luck is here, we're foil'd again!
The Devil's in the Dice, that's plain!
No Chymist e'er was so perplex'd;
No jilted Coxcomb half so vex'd;
The Devil's in the Dice, that's plain!
No Chymist e'er was so perplex'd;
No jilted Coxcomb half so vex'd;
76
Thus Folks are often at a Stand,
When Remedies are near at Hand!
For lo! the Glass—ay, that indeed!
'Tis ten to one we now succed!
To this Relief She flies amain,
And straddles o'er the shining Plain,
The shining Plain reflects at large
All Damon's Wish, and Cloe's Charge.
The curious Maid in deep Surprize,
On the grim Feature fix'd her Eyes:
Far less amaz'd Æneas stood,
When, by Avernus sacred Flood,
He saw Hell's Portal fring'd with Wood.
When Remedies are near at Hand!
For lo! the Glass—ay, that indeed!
'Tis ten to one we now succed!
To this Relief She flies amain,
And straddles o'er the shining Plain,
The shining Plain reflects at large
All Damon's Wish, and Cloe's Charge.
The curious Maid in deep Surprize,
On the grim Feature fix'd her Eyes:
Far less amaz'd Æneas stood,
When, by Avernus sacred Flood,
He saw Hell's Portal fring'd with Wood.
And is this all, is this (She cry'd)
Man's great Desire, and Woman's Pride;
The Spring whence flows the Lover's Pain,
The Ocean where 'tis lost again,
By Fate for ever doom'd to prove
The Nursery, and grave of Love?
O Thou of dire and horrid Mein,
And always better felt than seen!
Fit Rapture of the gloomy Night,
O, never more approach the Light!
Like other Myst'ries Men adore,
Be hid, to be rever'd the more.
Man's great Desire, and Woman's Pride;
The Spring whence flows the Lover's Pain,
The Ocean where 'tis lost again,
By Fate for ever doom'd to prove
The Nursery, and grave of Love?
77
And always better felt than seen!
Fit Rapture of the gloomy Night,
O, never more approach the Light!
Like other Myst'ries Men adore,
Be hid, to be rever'd the more.
TALE III. The Judgment of Tiresias.
—Placuit quæ sit Sententia docti
Quærere Tiresiæ—
Ov. Met
Quærere Tiresiæ—
Ov. Met
When willing Nymphs, and Swains unite
In Quest of amorous Delight,
Which Sex does Venus most befriend,
Which Party best obtains its End,
Which does the greatest Pleasure prove,
And taste the sweetest Joys of Love?
In Quest of amorous Delight,
Which Sex does Venus most befriend,
Which Party best obtains its End,
Which does the greatest Pleasure prove,
And taste the sweetest Joys of Love?
78
'Twixt Jove and Juno, we are told,
This was a fam'd Dispute of old:
Long the Debate with equal Strife
They held, like mortal Man, and Wife:
The God in Reason cou'd not yield,
The Goddess scorn'd to quit the Field.
This was a fam'd Dispute of old:
Long the Debate with equal Strife
They held, like mortal Man, and Wife:
The God in Reason cou'd not yield,
The Goddess scorn'd to quit the Field.
At length, quoth Jove, thus rudely cross'd,
His Breath, and Patience almost lost,
If by your Sex's Appetite,
Proud Queen, we measure, your Delight,
'Tis plain the Goddess does dispense
To them her kindest Influence.
His Breath, and Patience almost lost,
If by your Sex's Appetite,
Proud Queen, we measure, your Delight,
'Tis plain the Goddess does dispense
To them her kindest Influence.
Juno the Inference deny'd,
And with decisive female Pride
Wou'd have it still o' th' other Side.
And with decisive female Pride
Wou'd have it still o' th' other Side.
I'll lay, says Jupiter, I'm right
Three Storms, with Clouds as black, as Night,
Three Peals of Thunder, mixt with Hail,
And Lightning Shafts, which never fail;
Win 'em, and use 'em at Command
Against your Foes, by Sea, or Land,
For Vows forgot, or Rites neglected,
My Friends of Crete alone excepted.
Three Storms, with Clouds as black, as Night,
79
And Lightning Shafts, which never fail;
Win 'em, and use 'em at Command
Against your Foes, by Sea, or Land,
For Vows forgot, or Rites neglected,
My Friends of Crete alone excepted.
'Tis done, she cry'd, and Argus Eyes
I stake against your troubled Skies,
Those watchful Eyes so much you dread,
When wand'ring from our Nuptial Bed.
I stake against your troubled Skies,
Those watchful Eyes so much you dread,
When wand'ring from our Nuptial Bed.
Enough, quoth Jove, by Styx's Flood
The Wager's ratify'd and good!
The Wager's ratify'd and good!
But who can this Affair decide?
Tiresias, can, the Thund'rer cry'd:
Tiresias either Sex has try'd.
Tiresias, can, the Thund'rer cry'd:
Tiresias either Sex has try'd.
80
Tiresias summon'd, strait appears,
And thus the knotty Question clears.
And thus the knotty Question clears.
Parent of Gods! tremendous Jove!
Great Monarch of the Realms above!
And you, dread Queen! in Samos known,
Invok'd by Matrons when they groan,
The Judgment you require, attend,
Nor may th' impartial Judge offend:
An abler sure you ne'er had found
In Heav'n, on Earth, or under Ground;
For I've done all that's done by Man,
And suffer'd all, poor Woman can,
Have made my self the bold Attack,
And fought, like Tygress, on my back,
Now press'd the Fair within my Arms,
Now dy'd beneath the Hero's Charms,
Still greatly blest; for what Degree
'Twixt Extasy and Extasy?
And who will venture to compare
The mighty Raptures, none can bear?
The happy Moment is the same
To active Man, or passive Dame:
The Diff'rence lies, with due Submission,
Not in Degree, but Repetition.
That Sex, which oftest can renew
Those happy Moments, still too few!
That Sex does Venus most befriend,
That Party best obtains its End.
Great Monarch of the Realms above!
And you, dread Queen! in Samos known,
Invok'd by Matrons when they groan,
The Judgment you require, attend,
Nor may th' impartial Judge offend:
An abler sure you ne'er had found
In Heav'n, on Earth, or under Ground;
For I've done all that's done by Man,
And suffer'd all, poor Woman can,
Have made my self the bold Attack,
And fought, like Tygress, on my back,
Now press'd the Fair within my Arms,
Now dy'd beneath the Hero's Charms,
Still greatly blest; for what Degree
'Twixt Extasy and Extasy?
81
The mighty Raptures, none can bear?
The happy Moment is the same
To active Man, or passive Dame:
The Diff'rence lies, with due Submission,
Not in Degree, but Repetition.
That Sex, which oftest can renew
Those happy Moments, still too few!
That Sex does Venus most befriend,
That Party best obtains its End.
82
TALE IV. The Shades.
In the Elysian Fields, they say,
As Virgil crost in Homer's Way,
Young Shade, quoth Homer, why so proud?
You might, methinks, at least, have bow'd,
Since from my Labours you have stole
Full half your Book, or near the whole.
As Virgil crost in Homer's Way,
Young Shade, quoth Homer, why so proud?
You might, methinks, at least, have bow'd,
Since from my Labours you have stole
Full half your Book, or near the whole.
Warm, little Horace, passing by,
Made Homer this severe Reply.
We own, Friend Virgil wisely drew,
From your great Beauties not a few;
But whence you thiev'd, we cannot know,
Who writ so many Years ago.
Made Homer this severe Reply.
We own, Friend Virgil wisely drew,
From your great Beauties not a few;
But whence you thiev'd, we cannot know,
Who writ so many Years ago.
83
Anacreon, and Sappho mute
Listen'd, to hear, these three dispute,
And, finding good, old Homer press'd,
Made up, with Pindar, to the rest.
Listen'd, to hear, these three dispute,
And, finding good, old Homer press'd,
Made up, with Pindar, to the rest.
Horace, quoth they, give back our own,
And let this awful Shade alone!
If what you've borrow'd, we shou'd take,
Think, what a naked Bard you'd make:
There's little new; young Asses bray
Like old. They smil'd and slid away.
And let this awful Shade alone!
If what you've borrow'd, we shou'd take,
Think, what a naked Bard you'd make:
There's little new; young Asses bray
Like old. They smil'd and slid away.
84
TALE V. The Fair Penitent.
The
Powers, who our Honour guard,
Cannot be always on their Ward,
Cloë was taught this Secret well,
When into Damon's Arms she fell:
The Shepherd watch'd the lucky Hour,
When Venus put her in his Pow'r;
The blest Occasion close pursues:
The fated Nymph cou'd not refuse.
Cannot be always on their Ward,
Cloë was taught this Secret well,
When into Damon's Arms she fell:
The Shepherd watch'd the lucky Hour,
When Venus put her in his Pow'r;
The blest Occasion close pursues:
The fated Nymph cou'd not refuse.
But Oh! too soon the Swain was gone!
When Cloe, on her Bed alone,
Reflecting what she did, and say'd,
And that she was no more a Maid,
In these complaining Words began
To mourn her Fate, and rail at Man.
When Cloe, on her Bed alone,
Reflecting what she did, and say'd,
And that she was no more a Maid,
In these complaining Words began
To mourn her Fate, and rail at Man.
85
Ruin'd! undone! O fatal Night!
O how I dread the Morning's Light!
Where shall I hide my guilty Head?
Far better Cloe had been dead!
Why did I listen to his Tale;
Why did the Flatterer prevail?
These Cheeks that tempted him, I'll tear!
Pluck out these Eyes! pull off this Hair!
No! yet the horrid Deed is known
To the triumphant Youth alone.
Alas! shou'd he the Crime conceal,
These Blushes must my Shame reveal!
O lov'd Companions of the Plain!
Chast Virgins of Diana's Train!
Forgive!—Ah! no; the Maidens pure
Polluted Cloe wont endure!
O curs'd Mankind! detested Name!
O Love! dire Foe to Woman's Fame!
O how I dread the Morning's Light!
Where shall I hide my guilty Head?
Far better Cloe had been dead!
Why did I listen to his Tale;
Why did the Flatterer prevail?
These Cheeks that tempted him, I'll tear!
Pluck out these Eyes! pull off this Hair!
No! yet the horrid Deed is known
To the triumphant Youth alone.
Alas! shou'd he the Crime conceal,
These Blushes must my Shame reveal!
O lov'd Companions of the Plain!
Chast Virgins of Diana's Train!
Forgive!—Ah! no; the Maidens pure
Polluted Cloe wont endure!
O curs'd Mankind! detested Name!
O Love! dire Foe to Woman's Fame!
Cupid, who all the while stood by,
Appear'd, and made her this Reply.
Appear'd, and made her this Reply.
86
Young, happy Nymph, dry up your Tears!
Dispel your Anger, and your Fears!
Learn, these blest Moments to improve!
You're but a Novice yet in Love.
Damon has kindly set you free;
Diana's well exchang'd for Me!
The Fruit was ripe, nor long cou'd stay;
It must have drop'd some other Day;
Better thus early, than too late:
What's done, was so ordain'd by Fate.
Dispel your Anger, and your Fears!
Learn, these blest Moments to improve!
You're but a Novice yet in Love.
Damon has kindly set you free;
Diana's well exchang'd for Me!
The Fruit was ripe, nor long cou'd stay;
It must have drop'd some other Day;
Better thus early, than too late:
What's done, was so ordain'd by Fate.
87
TALE VI. The Apparition.
Visa mihi ante oculos, & notâ major imago.
Virg.
Virg.
The
Guardian Pow'rs are ready still,
To keep the honest Man from Ill;
For, as by Dian's friendly Ray
To Cloe's Arms I took my Way,
To Cloe, ever kind, and gay,
Close by the Mansion of the Fair,
Whose easy Chains with Joy I wear,
I saw, Syrisca's Ghost appear.
How chang'd from her, whom we of late
Beheld, accomplish all her Fate,
A Martyr to the common Cause,
A Victim to too rigid Laws!
Majestic now she seem'd to stand,
Her quondam Fasces in her Hand,
With Leaves, and Blossoms spangled o'er,
Tho' Rods of wither'd Birch before.
Not Venus self on Dido's Coast
Cou'd more refulgent Glory boast,
When to her Son, a while conceal'd,
At once the Goddess stood reveal'd.
To keep the honest Man from Ill;
For, as by Dian's friendly Ray
To Cloe's Arms I took my Way,
To Cloe, ever kind, and gay,
Close by the Mansion of the Fair,
Whose easy Chains with Joy I wear,
I saw, Syrisca's Ghost appear.
How chang'd from her, whom we of late
Beheld, accomplish all her Fate,
88
A Victim to too rigid Laws!
Majestic now she seem'd to stand,
Her quondam Fasces in her Hand,
With Leaves, and Blossoms spangled o'er,
Tho' Rods of wither'd Birch before.
Not Venus self on Dido's Coast
Cou'd more refulgent Glory boast,
When to her Son, a while conceal'd,
At once the Goddess stood reveal'd.
Trembling with Fear, amaz'd, oppress'd,
And pale, the Phantom I address'd.
And pale, the Phantom I address'd.
O say, departed Matron, say,
Why we again that Form survey?
Why from Infernal Realms you rove,
Or leave th' eternal Bow'rs above?
What Wealth conceal'd, what Debts unpaid
Disturb your venerable Shade?
Why we again that Form survey?
Why from Infernal Realms you rove,
Or leave th' eternal Bow'rs above?
What Wealth conceal'd, what Debts unpaid
Disturb your venerable Shade?
Nor Debts, she cry'd, nor Wealth conceal'd,
To rightful Heirs to be reveal'd,
The Business of each common Ghost,
Call me from th' illustrious Post,
Where under Venus I command,
Distinguish'd in the Paphian Band.
For you alone, a Guardian Spright,
I travel thro' the Gloom of Night;
However rais'd, I cannot grow
Unmindful of old Friends below:
Fly then, lov'd Mortal, or ingage
A surly, illbred Cuckold's Rage;
The charming Cloe you adore,
The willing Nymph is free no more:
From Winds, and Waves, all Dangers past,
Rough Triton is return'd at last,
Caresses now his wanton Spouse,
And half believes her faithless Vows,
Jealous, as Heroes of their Fame,
And watchful, as the am'rous Dame:
Shun the late hospitable Gate;
One gentle Tap proclaims your Fate.
To rightful Heirs to be reveal'd,
89
Call me from th' illustrious Post,
Where under Venus I command,
Distinguish'd in the Paphian Band.
For you alone, a Guardian Spright,
I travel thro' the Gloom of Night;
However rais'd, I cannot grow
Unmindful of old Friends below:
Fly then, lov'd Mortal, or ingage
A surly, illbred Cuckold's Rage;
The charming Cloe you adore,
The willing Nymph is free no more:
From Winds, and Waves, all Dangers past,
Rough Triton is return'd at last,
Caresses now his wanton Spouse,
And half believes her faithless Vows,
Jealous, as Heroes of their Fame,
And watchful, as the am'rous Dame:
Shun the late hospitable Gate;
One gentle Tap proclaims your Fate.
90
Prostrate I fell, and, O kind Shade,
What Thanks, said I, shou'd here be paid!
What's the Reward of Love so true,
What to immortal Friendship due?
Now by those Rods you still confess,
Those Emblems of your late Address,
Pow'rful as Love to pain, and please,
Inspiring as Cantharides,
E'en by those sacred Rods I swear,
And by your now Ambrosian Hair,
If on the Muse we dare rely,
Syrisca's Name shall never dye!
With Flow'rs your Shrine shall still be crown'd,
And Midnight Brawls your Praise resound.
What Thanks, said I, shou'd here be paid!
What's the Reward of Love so true,
What to immortal Friendship due?
Now by those Rods you still confess,
Those Emblems of your late Address,
Pow'rful as Love to pain, and please,
Inspiring as Cantharides,
E'en by those sacred Rods I swear,
And by your now Ambrosian Hair,
If on the Muse we dare rely,
Syrisca's Name shall never dye!
With Flow'rs your Shrine shall still be crown'd,
And Midnight Brawls your Praise resound.
91
TALE VII. The INDIAN.
A
Priest in Mission went from Spain,
The blind Americans to gain,
Gravely converted, bad, or good,
All the poor Savage Souls he cou'd;
His wild Parishioners confess'd,
Absolv'd, exhorted, marry'd, blest;
Labour'd, to let his Converts see,
How far enlighten'd Man might be
By Faith, and Books of Saints inspir'd,
And preach'd, till either Side was tir'd,
On moral Virtue, Sin, and Grace,
Expounding all Things in their Place.
The blind Americans to gain,
Gravely converted, bad, or good,
All the poor Savage Souls he cou'd;
His wild Parishioners confess'd,
Absolv'd, exhorted, marry'd, blest;
Labour'd, to let his Converts see,
How far enlighten'd Man might be
By Faith, and Books of Saints inspir'd,
And preach'd, till either Side was tir'd,
On moral Virtue, Sin, and Grace,
Expounding all Things in their Place.
A sly bold Savage, hard of Heart,
Beckons the holy Man apart.
Beckons the holy Man apart.
92
Father, your sacred Truths are clear;
Your Morals just, and sound appear;
I here embrace them for my own:
I'm puzzled at one Thing alone.
Your Morals just, and sound appear;
I here embrace them for my own:
I'm puzzled at one Thing alone.
My Son, your Doubt;—I must confess,
Father, I'm at a loss, to guess,
How 'tis, each Pair of human Kind
You here in Marriage Bonds have join'd,
Become one Flesh, as you ordain?
Father, I'm at a loss, to guess,
How 'tis, each Pair of human Kind
You here in Marriage Bonds have join'd,
Become one Flesh, as you ordain?
My Son, give Ear, the Case is plain.
Hold, Father, first I fain, wou'd see,
Why I, who ever have been free.
And whom you Lord of all declare
On Earth, in Water, and in Air,
Shou'd yet be forc'd, to take a Wife
For better, and for worse; for Life;
Keep all the Children, she provides;
Renouncing all the Sex besides?
Hold, Father, first I fain, wou'd see,
Why I, who ever have been free.
And whom you Lord of all declare
On Earth, in Water, and in Air,
Shou'd yet be forc'd, to take a Wife
For better, and for worse; for Life;
Keep all the Children, she provides;
Renouncing all the Sex besides?
The Father, staring in his Face,
My Son, you yet are void of Grace:
The Devil baffles all I say!
The Savage sneer'd, and ran away.
My Son, you yet are void of Grace:
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The Savage sneer'd, and ran away.
TALE VIII. The Escape.
In
Naples, famous for Delights,
Where the soft Air to Love invites,
Strephon, o'ercome with Wine, was led,
By chance, to some vile Strumpet's Bed,
In the lone Suburbs, where she lyes,
Fatal, as Spider to the Flies.
Where the soft Air to Love invites,
Strephon, o'ercome with Wine, was led,
By chance, to some vile Strumpet's Bed,
In the lone Suburbs, where she lyes,
Fatal, as Spider to the Flies.
At Night, when all was hush'd, she rose
To stab the Youth, and seize his Cloaths;
But, as she meant, to give the Stroke,
Her lifted Hand with Horror shook,
A Trembling seiz'd her Limbs all o'er:
A Dread, she never felt before!
And, as he slept by her false Side,
Thus the relenting Syren cry'd.
To stab the Youth, and seize his Cloaths;
But, as she meant, to give the Stroke,
Her lifted Hand with Horror shook,
A Trembling seiz'd her Limbs all o'er:
A Dread, she never felt before!
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Thus the relenting Syren cry'd.
Awake! awake! and fly with Speed,
Lest by this fatal Steel you bleed!
Many fond Lovers here have lain,
Many this murd'ring Arm has slain;
But you are safe: Arise, and go!
Remorse for the first Time I know.
Of some Divinity above,
Or Phœbus, or the Queen of Love,
You surely now must be the Care
Thus strangely to avoid my Snare!
Lest by this fatal Steel you bleed!
Many fond Lovers here have lain,
Many this murd'ring Arm has slain;
But you are safe: Arise, and go!
Remorse for the first Time I know.
Of some Divinity above,
Or Phœbus, or the Queen of Love,
You surely now must be the Care
Thus strangely to avoid my Snare!
No! base, rapacious Mother, use
Your loudest Threats, I'll now refuse!
Let her try all her Rage and Spells!
My soften'd Heart, at length, rebels.
Hence, favour'd Mortal! while you may,
Before th' approaching Dawn of Day;
Diana lights you on your Way.
Fly, to convince the World, you find
A Harlot once sincere, and kind!
Your loudest Threats, I'll now refuse!
Let her try all her Rage and Spells!
My soften'd Heart, at length, rebels.
Hence, favour'd Mortal! while you may,
Before th' approaching Dawn of Day;
Diana lights you on your Way.
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A Harlot once sincere, and kind!
TALE IX. Zephyr.
Zephyr
one Day, unlucky Wind!
To old Philemon's Tail confin'd,
Struggled, and bounc'd, like mad, in vain,
To frisk in open Air again.
To old Philemon's Tail confin'd,
Struggled, and bounc'd, like mad, in vain,
To frisk in open Air again.
Swell'd with his Rage, Philemon struts,
And to his Dame the Question puts.
Good Baucis smil'd at what he said,
And shook, in Scorn her aged Head.
And to his Dame the Question puts.
Good Baucis smil'd at what he said,
And shook, in Scorn her aged Head.
Nay, I'm in earnest, and in haste
Philemon cry'd, the Time we waste,
Philemon cry'd, the Time we waste,
Baucis obeys, tho' she disdain'd.
Th' unequal Foe: Philemon strain'd;
While Zephyr, breaking Prison, flies,
And all this Rout in Thunder dies.
Th' unequal Foe: Philemon strain'd;
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And all this Rout in Thunder dies.
| The Works of Hildebrand Jacob | |