Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Eight centuries and some odd years,
(From Jewish Talmud as appears)
Eve had with Adam led a life
Of joy, of pain—of love and strife;
When in the socket Nature's flame
Expiring, hopeless lay the Dame;
Around her couch, a numerous brood
Of Daughters and Grand-daughters stood,
Maids, Widows, Wives;—Tho' giv'n to stray,
Eve had been careful to obey
That strict command sent from on high,
Which bids Encrease and Multiply:
She sigh'd,—she shook her palsied head,
And thus in feeble accents said:—

“An ear attentive, Daughters, lend,
And to my last advice attend,
The only Legacy that Eve
To her sweet Girls has pow'r to give:

But what in Eden erst befel,
By way of prologue let me tell;

Much may in Little be exprest,
Few words to me seem always best.

My Life, since first I tasted air,
Has been a Life of Toil and Care;
No sooner scoop'd from Adam's side,
At once his Daughter and his Bride,
But I was taught without delay,
That my First Duty was—Obey:—
So harsh a note, a sound so queer,
At first struck oddly on my ear:—
“All things on earth, my Goodman said,
“Were for his use and pleasure made,
“And I, it seems, among the rest,
“But born to stoop to his behest;—
“My province (he averr'd) was home,
“Whilst lordly Man at will might roam,
“Nor should a faithful Wife appear
“Abroad, unlicens'd by her Dear.”
Thus in the groves whilst he was walking,
With Angels gossiping and talking,
My hours, insipidly content,
No pleasure known, at home were spent;
My sole employ to cull the fruit
Which best his appetite would suit;
Or to prepare a fragrant bed
Of choicest flow'rs to lay his head,
Of which he thought it was but fair
To let his Bedmaker have share.

One day, my toil domestic done,
I stole abroad at setting sun

To take the Air;—Serene the Sky,
The Wind a gentle lullaby
Just breath'd, as sinking down to rest,
The Birds their ev'ning hymn addrest;
The Beasts their wanton frolics play'd,
Thirstless of gore, along the glade;
The painted Flow'rs beneath my feet
Sent forth a fragrance more than sweet;
The breaking Clouds a roseate hue
Presented to th' enraptured view;
Gently adown the slopy Hills
Reflecting shone the murm'ring Rills,
And Music with her sweetest sound
Re-echo'd praise to Heaven around,
Whilst Angels hov'ring on the wing,
The Concert join'd in airy ring.

A deep impression on my mind
This farewel scene has left behind;
Such scenes we no where now can boast,
With paradise—such scenes are lost.

With devious step I mov'd along,
And, cheerful, join'd the grateful song;
When Destiny—or God knows what—
Brought me to that sequester'd spot
Where Wisdom's Tree majestic grew,
Loaded with fruit of golden hue;
I, playful, with the mountain cat,
Beneath its spreading branches sat,

Not in the least, as God's my guide,
Suspecting what wou'd soon betide;
When, all amazement and surprize!
Another Adam met my eyes,
But far surpassing my Good Man,
As to the Raven is the Swan;
Tripping He came along the road,
His looks a passion strait avow'd,
He smil'd, he ogled, and he bow'd;
Bow'd with an air and such a grace,
As flush'd the blood into my face;
His tresses on his shoulders spread,
A wreath of flow'rs adorn'd his head,
His face—in short no modern Beau
Cou'd half so fair and lovely show;
I wou'd have fled, but 'twas in vain,
What Nymph could fly so sweet a Swain?
He seiz'd my hand, and with a tongue,
Where more than angel sweetness hung,
Thus spoke ------

“Fairest of creatures Heav'n e'er made,
“In whom all beauty is display'd,
“Perfection's Self! For Heav'n in You
“Blazon'd the utmost Heav'n could do,
(And sooth to say, no Female since
Had to like honour such pretence,
For Eve was then, beyond compare,
Of all her Daughters the most fair;)
“Did you, he smiling cry'd, but know
“The raptures which from Knowledge flow,

“Upon the fruit divine you'd feast,
“And be a Cherubim at least.—
“Can Knowledge be a crime, fair Eve?
“Such doctrine Truth forbids believe;
“'Tis all a trick, my worthy Madam,
“Contriv'd for his own ends by Adam;
“Here many a time, or I'm a sinner,
“While you're at home, preparing dinner,
“Slyly he steals—I've seen him do't—
“To smuggle the Forbidden Fruit;
“Nor fear to die—'tis all a cheat,
“Unhurt you see me safely eat.”—

He said, and from the loaded tree
(Whose arching boughs with fragrancy
And golden apples spread around,
Kissing the wide-encircled ground)
Fearless of Death, or future pain,
He pull'd—he eat—and eat again:—
Amaz'd I saw him still survive,
And scarce my senses could believe;
For Adam oft with anxious look,
And dreadful threat'ning, thus had spoke;
“Whene'er the Fruit Forbid you taste,
“That hour, O Eve, shall be your last.”
His eyes now shone with heav'nly fire,
Which mortal food cou'd ne'er inspire;
He look'd so kind, such wonders told,
I cou'd, in truth, no longer hold;
I thought 'twas hard—'twas wond'rous hard,
From Knowledge Eve should be debarr'd,

Whilst Adam, like a greedy elf,
Monopoliz'd the Fruit himself.—
The Prohibition too to eat,
Made me more eager for the treat.
Now tell me, Daughters, which of you
Wou'd not have done, or would not do
The very same?—These words scarce spoke,
An universal chorus broke
Instant, from each bright Miss and Dame,
“Indeed, Mamma, you're not to blame,
“We all had done the very same.”—

Who cou'd suspect so sweet a Youth,
So angel-like, devoid of truth?
In masquerade he came—Ye Fair,
Of masquerading sparks beware:
I stretch'd my hand, but fell along,
Sure omen I was doing wrong;
A cackling hen, with furious cries,
Peck'd at her husband's comb and eyes;
Three times I sneez'd—and stranger yet,
The sun seem'd bloody as it set.

Yet maugre all these Omens sent,
An apple from the tree I rent,
And eat—when, like a rapid flame,
The passions shot thro' all my frame;
Adam forgot, I glowing ey'd
The Youth, and wish'd to be his bride,
When a loud clap of thunder strait
(Dire signal of my fallen state)

Arous'd me:—At the awful sound
Th' impostor Fiend dropt to the ground,
And lo! to my affrighted eyes,
Chang'd to a Snake of monstrous size,
Or Serpent rather, that with glare
Terrific rais'd like quills my hair;
He breath'd forth flames, and blackest smoke
From his infernal nostrils broke;
Beneath the bushes strait he fled
Hissing, to hide his frightful head;
I scream'd, and quick as light'ning flew,
Instant the noise my Husband drew,
Who missing me—(a case uncommon)
Was searching round for his lost Woman,
His flutt'ring pulse beating alarm,
As if foreboding future harm;
Trembling I told the dismal tale,
He, like a ghost, all wan and pale,
Poor soul! a while, as rooted, stood
A speechless, senseless stick of wood;—
At length with a heart-rending sigh,
And darting up to heav'n his eye,
“Death is your doom, unhappy Eve,
“Depriv'd of you I cannot live;
“No second Eve my heart can move,
“My soul disdains another love.”
Thus said, he pluck'd the fatal tree,
And join'd to mine his destiny:
What from that hour to this befell,
Your very catechiz can tell.

'Twas then from the broad fig-leaf's shade,
A decent covering first I made

To veil, what now we're taught to hide
Unseen, untouch'd till made a bride;
Nor peacock could more pride express,
Than I in my new-fangled dress;—
With most becoming happy taste
The leaves I planted round my waist,
And instant from my Fall became
A flaunting, jaunting, dressy Dame.

But ah, I find my strength decay,
My eyes begin to shut out day,
Brief, my dear Children, let me be,
In giving my last Legacy:—

Few words to Me seem always best,
Much may in Little be exprest.

Can a Fragrance be sweeter than sweet? Scriblerius.

Is not this false Grammar? Scriblerius.

CANTO II.

“Ye budding Virgins not full blown,
Who scarce a Century have known,
Whose little hearts now flutt'ring beat,
For what you barely guess at yet;
Yet nature-taught, can send Love's dart
Up to the feather in Man's heart,
To victory ere you pretend,
First learn this lesson,—To Defend.

When Nature first begins a riot,
And naughty Man disturbs your quiet,
Assume the mask—seem tim'rous, shy,
And what you wish, pretend to fly;
This seeming coolness will enflame,
And make Men eager for the Game:
The Hen, when by her Mate gallanted,
Screams, tho' indulg'd with what she wanted;
The dappled Hind her Stag denies,
And, but to be o'ertaken, flies;
Thus Maidens not averse to billing,
To draw Men on should seem unwilling,
For Men, believe me, in their natures
Are contradictory strange creatures;
An easy conquest they disdain,
Pleasure must be enhanc'd with pain:
Yet fly not with so quick a pace,
To leave 'em distant in the race,
But dodge and double like a hare,
Till they are netted in the snare,

Then to their prowess seem to yield,
Yourselves the victors in the field.

Ye Wives, who've more experience got,
And know for certain—what is what,—
Whose Curiosity appeas'd,
Are with the thirst of ruling seiz'd,
Wou'd ye despotic pow'r attain,
Various the paths your wish to gain;
For Gudgeons, Trout, and Tyrant Pike,
At baits of diff'rent colours strike.

Love, to enslave some Husbands hearts,
Must use a thousand little arts,
Whilst Fear, with all his spaniel train,
Must others bend to wear the chain:
By Love or Fear we fix our throne,
Let not Indifference once be shewn;
From bed and board that snow-broth banish,
Or, rainbow-like, your pow'r will vanish.

When Misers, who should never wed,
Or take aught else save Gold to bed,
Usurp the Husband's honor'd name,
Let wild Profusion guide each Dame;—
When at the sacred altar ty'd,
The Husband worships his fair Bride,
And with his worldly goods endows
(And fit he shou'd) his Lawful Spouse:

Shall Man then, with rebellious might,
Deprive his Sov'reign of her Right?
No—let the Miser Earth-worm see
His All is yours by Heav'n's decree;—
Teaze him at least, till he advance
His Dear a separate maintenance,
And if that fail, try every art
('Tis just)—to break his reptile heart,
And give him back to that vile Earth,
From whence his Gold and He took birth.

If sulkiness your Mates display,
To teaze such teazers still be gay;
Nor when Sir Mule is in the pet,
Your features by his visage set;
Laugh, dance and sing, and with disdain
Treat all his arts to give you pain:—
If humor'd, he will grow past bearing,
Whene'er he sulks—take you an airing.

Shou'd Heav'n a husband, fraught with sense,
In kindness to your share dispense,
His knowledge, wit, and parts admire,
You fool him to his heart's Desire,
(The wisest Men, or they're bely'd,
Have, maugre Wisdom, their blind side)
Tickle the trout, he's in your hand,
Seem to obey, and you command:—
Who figure first in Wisdom's Schools,
Are Women's most distinguish'd fools.

When drest in winning smiles or tears,
Beauty omnipotent appears;
Distress will often much avail,
When other artifices fail;
If to their passions you apply,
What heart of Feeling can deny?—
But blocks with pebbled hearts demand
Corrosive med'cines from your hand.

Or shou'd it prove your hapless fate,
To meet with an inconstant mate,
One who his bosom'd wife will leave,
That wife to whom Heav'n bids him cleave,
If, spite of Justice, he will ramble,
You too abroad can frisk and amble;
For 'tis but fitting Men receive
A kind return for what they give.

Shou'd Jealousy, that baleful guest,
Begin to squint in Hubby's breast,
Where from a gnat of pigmy size,
She causes giant hydras rise,
(Not but that Women, by the bye,
Are sometimes giv'n to tread awry;
At least this wonder I've been told,
The Lover young, the Husband old)
To clear her fame, each cunning elf
Shou'd rear the jealous flag herself;
A few well-season'd accusations,
With fits, tears, swoonings, objurgations,
Will stagger Goodman's cheated sense,
(His thoughts employ'd in self-defence)

And Cunning, with her Lynx's eye,
Shall hoodwink peering Jealousy.

To rule in every age and station
Is Female Universal Passion;
Divided pow'r is all a joke,
Or We or They must bear the yoke;
Then let dull Man the harness wear,
Whilst Woman drives as charioteer:
“For Husbands born to be control'd,
“Stoop to the forward and the bold.”

To knowledge and superior sense,
Vain Man's assum'd pre-eminence;
'Twas I, who first of Wisdom's treat,
Fearless of Death, durst boldly eat;
One single apple would not do,
To shew my prowess I eat two;
Not so your Grandpappa, for he
Scarce tasted the Forbidden Tree;
All which consider'd it must follow,
In knowledge Females beat 'em hollow:—

Our flutt'ring souls restraint despise,
We're demi-tenants of the skies;
Angels in every sense, had heaven
But angel-wings for flutt'ring given;
We then had birds of passage flown,
And made the universe our own;

Like Swallows, thro' each varied sphere
Playfully darted here and there,
Whilst earth-chain'd Man, from his low station,
Had humbly paid us adoration.

In body too as well as mind
Our angel sex is more refin'd;
Man, a meer earth-worm, owes his birth
To a poor dirty clod of earth,
Whilst Woman, better bred, 'tis known
Had for her sire good flesh and bone.

With what servility they bend,
And on the Fair One's nod attend!
To lure us down to their embraces,
They call us Goddesses and Graces;
But when we once so far demean us,
As to remove the bar between us,
When to their level Females stoop,
The things wou'd ride us cock o' hoop;
Ungrateful wretches! to forget
How infinite to Us their debt!
To Us,—by gracious Heav'n appointed
Their queens, and sovereigns anointed.

Few words to Me seem always best,
Much may in Little be exprest.

Shou'd petty altercations rise,
Which Contradiction still supplies,
Little avails the wrong or right,
Glamor, not Reason, wins the fight;

Let not the hostile trumpet cease,
'Till they petition for a peace;
Cautious again to face your rattle,
Wisely they'll shun the field of battle:
The Cock from dunghill once well beat,
Never provokes a fresh defeat;
But trembling sees his conqu'ring foe,
Clap his exulting wings and crow.

But when no longer they contend,
And at your feet for mercy bend,
When humbly they avow obedience,
And to their sov'reigns swear allegiance,
For their past crimes pay tribute due,
And what we will consent we do;
Let mercy to the slaves be shewn,
Mercy shou'd grace the female throne;
Tho' slaves—consider they are Men,
Smile on the Creatures—now and then.

These Recipes, to one 'tis ten,
At first will disagree with Men;
But Men, like Horses, may be broke
By perseverance, to the yoke;
Forc'd in their teeth's despite submit,
If wives prove jockies, to the bit.—

Ye Widows,—but to you as vain
Advice, as to the sea is rain;
To such I only beg to say,
Indulge, my girls, while yet ye may;

Old age brings on, with hurrying pace,
The hours of abstinence and grace.

A thousand things, alas, remain,
To teach, relate, advise, explain,
But ah, too late—for chilly Death—
I feel the scoundrel—stops my breath.

Adieu—farewel—my precepts scan—
And be as virtuous—as you can.”—

With talking spent, life on her tongue
(Its dernier lodgment) fault'ring hung:
Few words are always best, she cry'd,
She cou'd no more, but instant dy'd.

Her weeping Daughters—all distress—
Flew—to bespeak their Mourning Dress.

I am glad to know our Marriage Ceremony is of such Antiquity as to have been used in Eve's Days:—I shall have a greater Veneration for it than ever. Scriblerius.

Separate Maintenances too, it seems, are Antediluvian. Scriblerius.

Waller has stolen this Couplet from Eves and has made it his own, by changing the Word Husbands into Women. Scriblerius.