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With wafting Airs the Winds obfequious blow,
Her gay Descent the Man perceiv'd afar,
Shoots scornful Glances from the bended Frown,
« Now take what Jove design'd (she softly cry'd) « This box thy Portion, and my self thy Bride:” Fir'd with the Prospect of the double Charms, He snatch'd the Box, and Bride, with
Unhappy Man! to whom so bright she shone: The fatal Gift, her tempting self, unknown! The Winds were silent, all the Waves asleep, And Heav'n was trac'd upon the flate’ring Deep; But whilft he looks unmindful of a Storm, And thinks the Water wears a stable Form,
What dreadful Din around his Ears shall rise!
What Frowns confuse his Picture of the Skies !
At first the Creature Man was fram'd alone, Lord of himself, and all the World his own. For him the Nymphs in green forsook the Woods, For him the Nymphs in blue forfook the Floods; In vain the Satyrs rage, the Tritons rave, They bore him Heroes in the secret Cave. No Care destroy'd, no sick Disorder prey'd, No bending Age his sprightly Form decay'd, No Wars were known, no Females heard to rage, And Poets tell us, 'twas a golden Age.
When Woman came, those Ills the Box confin'd Burst furious out, and poisoin'd all the Wind, From Point to Point, from Pole to Pole they flew, Spread as they went, and in the Progress grew: The Nymphs regretting left the mortal Race, And alt'ring Nature wore a sickly Face:
New Terms of Folly rose, new States of Care;
Thus on Parnassus tuneful Hefiod sung, The Mountain echo'd, and the Valley rung,
The facred Groves a fix'd Attention show,
Where, dark and silent, with a twisted Shade The reighb’ring Woods a native Arbour made, There oft a tender Pair for am'rous Play Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd Hours away; A Locrian Youth, the gentle Troilus he, A fair Milesian, kind Evanthe fhe: