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29

The JORDAN.

A POEM: In Imitation of SPENSER, by --- Esq;

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

An auntique Vase of Sovereign Use I sing,
Well-known to young and old, and Jordan hight.
The lovely Queen, and eke the haughty King
Snatch up this Vessel in the murksome Night.
Ne lives there poor, ne lives there wealthy Wight,
But uses it in Mantle brown or green;
Sometimes it stands array'd in glossy white,
And oft in mighty Dortours may be seen,
Of China's fragile Earth with Sprigs of Flow'rs atween.
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II

The Virgin comely as the dewy Rose
There gently drops the softly-whisp'ring Rill;
The Frannion, who ne Shame, ne Blushing knows,
At once the Potter's glossy Vase doth fill;
It whizzes like the Waters of a Mill.
Here frouzy Housewives clear their loaded Reins;
The lumpish Justice, with a ready Will,
Grasps the round-handled Jar, and tries, and strains,
While slowly-dripping down the scanty Water drains.

III

The Dame of Fraunce shall without Shame convey
This ready Needment to it's proper Place;
Yet shall the Daughters of the Lond of Fay
Learn better Amenaunce and decent Grace:
Warm Blushes lend a Beauty to their Face,
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For Virtue's modest Tints their Cheeks adorn.
Thus o'er the distant Hillocks you may trace
The lucid Beamings of the Infant Morn;
Sweet are our blooming Maids, the sweetest Creatures born.

IV

None but the Husband, or the Lover true,
They trust with Management of their Affairs,
Nor even these their closer Moments view;
When the soft Beavies seek the Bow'r by Pairs,
Then from our Sight accoy'd like tim'rous Hares,
From their dear Bellamours the Virgins fly;
Think not, bright Youth, that these are scornful Airs,
Think not for Hate, they shun thine am'rous Eye,
Soon shall the Fair return, nor doom the Youth to die.

V

While Belgic Frows across a Charcoal Stove
Replenish'd like the Vestals' lasting Fire,
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Bren for whole Years, and scorch the Parts of Love,
No longer Parts that can Delight inspire,
Erst Caves of Bliss, now monumental Pyre.
O British Maids, for ever clean and neat,
For whom I aye will wake my simple Lyre,
With double Care preserve that dun Retreat,
Fair Venus' mystic Bow'r, Dan Cupid's feather'd Seat.

VI

So may your Hours soft-gliding steal away,
Unknown to gnarring Slander or to Bale,
O'er Seas of Bliss, Peace guide her Gondelay,
Ne bitter Dole empest the fragrant Gale,
O sweeter than the Lilies of the Dale,
In your soft Breasts the Seeds of Joyance grow,
Ne fell Despair be here with Visage pale,
Brave be the Youth for whom your Bosoms glow,
Ne other Joys but you the blooming Springal know.
 

Dark.

Dormitories.

A loose Person.

Behaviour.

Companies.

Daunted.

Lovers.

Burn.

Sorrow.

Youth.

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