He thank'd her on his bended Knee,
Then drank a Quart of Milk and Tea;
And leaving her ador'd Embrace,
Haften'd to Court to beg a Place.
While the, his Abfence to bemoan,
As foon as ever he was gone,
Call'd Thyrfis from beneath the Bed,
Where all this time he had been hid.
Whilft Men have thefe Ambitious Fancies,
And wanton Wenches read Romances,
Our Sex will be inur'd to lye,
And theirs inftructed to Reply.
The Moral of the Tale I fing,
(A Pofy for a Wedding Ring)
In this short Verfe will be confin'd,
Love is a Jeft, and Vows are Wind.
Hen eve lay bleft in his Alemana's Charms, Three Nights in one he preft her in his Arms; The Sun lay fet, and confcious Nature ftrove To fhade her God, and to prolong his Love. From that aufpicious Night Alcides came, What lefs could rife from Jove, and fuch a Dame? May this aufpicious Night with that compare, Nor lefs the Joys, nor less the rifing Heir, He ftrong as Jove, the like Alemana Fair.
By the Honourable Mr. GEORGE GRANVILL.
Leora has her With, the Weds a Peer,
Perfia, and both the Indies, muft provide
To grace her Pomp, and gratifie her Pride;
Of rich Brocard, a fhining Robe she wears,
And Gems furround her lovely Neck like Stars:
In Coach and Six the Goddefs flaunts abroad,
And Crowds of Liv'ry Beaus her Chariot load.
Who fees her thus, O happy as a Queen!
He cries.But fhift the gawdy treacherous Scene;
View her at Home, in her Domestick Light,
For thither fhe muft come, at least at Night:
What has the there? A furly brutal Lord,
Who chides, and fnaps her up at ev'ry Word;
A beaftly Sot, who while fhe holds his Head,
With drunken Filth bedawbs the Nuptial Bed;
Sick to the Heart, the breathes the naufeous Fume
Of odious Steams, that poifon all the Room;
Weeping all Night the trembling Creature lyes,
And counts the tedious Hours when the may rife;
But most the fears left waking the should find,
To make amends, the Monfter wou'd be kind;
Thofe matchlefs Beauties, worthy of a God,
Muft bear, tho' much averfe, the loathfome Load.
What then will be the Chance that next ensues?
Some vile Disease, fresh reeking from the Stews :
The fecret Venom, circling in her Veins,
Works thro' her Skin, and burfts in bloating Stains;
Her Eyes grow dim, and her infected Breath,
Tainting her Gums, difcolours all her Teeth,
Her Cheeks their Freshnefs lofe, and wonted Grace,
And an unusual Palenefs fpreads her Face,
Of sharp Nocturnal Anguish she complains,
And guiltless of the Caufe, relates her Pains.
The confcious Husband, whom like Symptoms feize,
Charges on her the Guilt of their Disease;
Affecting Fury, acts a Mad-man's Part,
He'll rip the Fatal Secrer from her Heart;
Bids her confefs, calls her Ten thoufand Whores:
In vain the kneels, the weeps, protefts, implores;
Scarce with her Life the "fcapes, expos'd to Shame,
In Body tortur'd, murder'd in her Fame,
Rots with a vile Adulterefs's Name;
Abandon'd to the World, without Defence,
And happy only in her Innocence.
Such is the Vengeance, that the Gods provide,
For those who barter Liberty for Pride,
Who impiously invoke the Pow'rs above,
To witness to falfe Vows, of mutual Love.
Thousands of poor Cleora's may be found,
Such Husbands, and fuch wretched Wives abound
Ye Guardian Pow'rs, the Arbiters of Blifs,
Preferve Clarinda from a Fate like this;
You form'd her Fair, not any Grace deny'd,
But gave, alas! a Spark too much of Pride;
Reform that Failing, and protect her ftill,
Ah! fave her from the Curfe of chufing ill.
Deem it not Envy, or a jealous Care,
That forms thefe Wishes, or provokes this Fray'rs
Tho' more than Death, I fear to fee thofe Charms
Allotted to fome happier Mortal's Arms;
Tormenting Thought! yet cou'd I bear that Pain,
Or any III, but hearing her complain:
Intent on her, my Love forgets its own,
Nor frames one Wish, but for her fake alone.
Whom-e'er the Gods have deftin'd to prefer,
They cannot make me wretched, blessing her.
An APOLOGY for an unfeasonable
Surprife.
By the fame Hand.
Aireft Zelinda, ceafe to chide or grieve, Nor blush at Joys, that only you can give. Who with bold Eyes, furvey'd those matchless Charms, Is punish'd, feeing in another's Arms:
With greedy Looks, he views each naked Part,
Joy feeds his Eyes, but Envy tears his Heart.
So caught was Mars, and Mercury aloud
Proclaim'd his Grief, that he was not the God:
So to be caught was ev'ry God's Defire,
Nor less than Venus can Zelinda Fire.
Forgive him then, thou more than Heav'nly Fair,
Pardon the Crime, reveng'd by the Defpair.
All that we know, that wretched Mortals feel
In those fad Regions, where the tortur'd dwell,
Is that they fee the Raptures of the Bleft,
And view the Joys, that they must never taste.
IN lonely Shades, distracted with Defpair,
Shunning Mankind, and torn with killing Care, My Eyes o'er-flowing, and my frantick Mind Rack'd with wild Thoughts, fwelling with Sighs the Wind;
Thro' Paths untrodden, Day and Night I rové,
Mourning the Fate of my fuccefslefs Love.
Who moft defire to live, untimely fall;
But when we beg to die, Death flies our Call:
Adonis dies, and torn is the lov'd Breaft
In midst of Joy, where Venus wont to reft;
That Fate, which cruel feem'd to him, wou'd be
Pity, Relief, and Happiness to me.
As melted Gold preferves its Weight the fame,
So burns my Love, nor waftes within the Flame.
When will my Sorrows end? In vain, in vain
I call to Heav'n, and tell the Gods my Pain;
The Gods averfe, like Myra, to my Pray'r,
Confent to doom whom the denies to spare.
Why do I feek for Foreign Aids, when I
Bear ready by my Side the Power to die?
Be keen my Sword, and ferve thy Mafter well,
Heal Wounds with Wounds, and Love with Death re-
Strait up I rofe, and to my aking Breaft,
My Bofom bare, the pointed Blade I preft;
When lo! aftonish'd! * an unusual Light
Pierc'd the thick Shade, and all around grew bright;
My dazzl'd Eyes a radiant Form behold,
Splendid with Light, like Beams of burning Gold,
Eternal Rays his shining Temples grace,
Eternal Youth fat blooming on his Face:
Trembling I liften, proftrate on the Ground,
His Breath perfumes the Grove, and Mufick's in the
Sound.
-Ceafe Lover, cease, thy tender Heart to vex
In fruitlefs Plaints, of an ungrateful Sex;
In Fates Eternal Volumes it is writ,
That Women ever fhall be Foes to Wit;
With proper Arts their fickly Minds command,
And please 'em with the things they understand:
With noific Fopperies their Hearts affail,
Renounce all Senfe; how should thy Songs prevail,
When I, the God of Wit, fo oft cou'd fail?
Remember me, and in my Story find,
How vainly Merit pleads to Womankind;
I, by whom all things fhine, who tune the Spheres,
Who guide the Day, and gild the Night with Stars,
Whofe Youth and Beauty from all Ages paft,
Sprang with the World, and with the World shall laft;
How oft with fruitless Tears have I implor'd
Ungrateful Nymphs, and tho' a God, ador'd?
When cou'd my Wit, my Beauty, or my Youth,
Move one hard Heart, or mov'd, fecure its Truth?
Here a proud Nymph with painful Steps I chace,
The Winds out-flying in our nimble Race;
Stay Daphne, ftay,-----in vain, in vain I try
10 ftop her speed, redoubling at my Cry;
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