Ev'n now, observant of the parting Ray,

Eyes the calm Sun-fet of thy Various Day,

Thro' Fortune's Cloud One truly Great can fee,

Nor fears to tell, that MORTIMER is He.

Sept. 25.

1721.

A. POPE.

HESIOD

HESIO D:

OR, THE

Rife of WOMAN.

HESI 0 D:

OR, THE

Ε

Rife of WOMAN.

HAT antient Times (thofe Times we

WHAT fancy wife)

Have left on long Record of Woman's Rife,
What Morals teach it, and what Fables hide,
What Author wrote it, how that Author dy'd,

All thefe I fing. In Greece they fram'd the Tale

(In Greece, 'twas thought, a Woman might be frail)
Ye modern Beauties! where the Poet drew
His fofteft Pencil, think he dreamt of you;
And warn'd by him, ye wanton Pens, beware
How Heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the Fair.
The Cafe was Hefiod's; he the Fable writ;
Some think with Meaning, fome with idle Wit:
Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please ;

I wave the Contest, and commence the Lays.

In days of yore, (no matter where or when, 'Twas e're the low Creation fwarm'd with Men) That one Prometheus, fprung of heav'nly Birth, (Our Author's Song can witness) liv'd on Earth. He cary'd the Turf to mold a manly Frame, And ftole from Jove his animating Flame.

The