Thus fung the Sifters, while the Gods admire Their beauteous creature, made for man in ire; Pandora fhe, whom all contend
To make too perfect not to gain her end :
Then bid the winds, that fly to breathe the spring,
Return to bear her on a gentle wing;
With wafting airs the winds obfequious blow,
And land the shining vengeance fafe below.
A golden coffer in her hand fhe bore,
The present treacherous, but the bearer more;
"Twas fraught with pangs; for Jove ordain'd above,
That gold should aid, and pangs attend on love.
Her gay descent the man perceiv'd afar,
Wondering he ran to catch the falling star:
But fo furpriz'd, as none but he can tell,
Who lov'd fo quickly, and who lov'd fo well.
O'er all his veins the wandering paffion burns,
He calls her Nymph, and every Nymph by turns.
Her form to lovely Venus he prefers,
Or fwears that Venus' must be fuch as hers.
She, proud to rule, yet ftrangely fram'd to teaze,
Neglects his offers while her airs fhe plays,
Shoots scornful glances from the bended frown,
In brifk disorder trips it up and down;
Then hums a careless tune to lay the storm,
And fits, and blushes, fmiles, and yields, in form.
"Now take what Jove defign'd, she softly cry'd,
"This box thy portion, and myself the bride."
Fir'd with the prospect of the double charms,
He fnatch'd the box, and bride, with eager arms.
Unhappy man! to whom fo bright she shone,
The fatal gift, her tempting felf, unknown!
The winds were filent, all the waves asleep,
And heaven was trac'd upon the flattering deep:
But, whilft he looks unmindful of a storm,
And thinks the water wears a ftable form,
What dreadful din around his ears fhall rife!
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 forfook 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 fecret cave.
No care deftroy'd, no fick disorder prey'd,
No bending age his sprightly form decay'd,
No wars were known, no females heard to rage,
And, Poets tell us, 't was a golden age.
When woman came, thofe ills the box confin'd
Burft furious out, and poison'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 altering nature wore a fickly face :
New terms of folly rofe, new states of care;
New plagues, to fuffer, and to please, the Fair!
The days of whining, and of wild intrigues,
Commenc'd, or finifh'd, with the breach of leagues;
The mean defigns of well-diffembled love;
The fordid matches never join'd above;
Abroad the labour, and at home the noise,
(Man's double fufferings for domeftic joys)
The curfe of jealousy; expence
and ftrife;
Divorce, the public brand of fhameful life;
The rival's fword; the qualm that takes the fair;
Difdain for paffion, paffion in defpair-
These, and a thousand yet unnam'd, we find;
Ah fear the thousand yet unnam❜d behind!
Thus on Parnaffus tuneful Hesiod fung,
The mountain echoed, and the valley rung,
The facred groves a fix'd attention fhow,
The crystal Helicon forbore to flow,
The sky grew bright, and (if his verse be true)
The Muses came to give the laurel too.
But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit,
If Love fwore vengeance for the tales he writ?
Ye Fair offended, hear your friend relate
What heavy judgment prov'd the writer's fate,
Though when it happen'd no relation clears,
'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years.
Where, dark and filent, with a twisted shade
The neighbouring woods a native arbour made,
There oft a tender pair, for amorous play
Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd hours away;
A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he,
A fair Milesian, kind Evanthe fhe:
But fwelling nature in a fatal hour
Betray'd the fecrets of the conscious bower; The dire disgrace her brothers count their own, And track her steps, to make its author known.
It chanc'd one evening, 't was the lover's day, Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay; When Hefiod, wandering, mus'd along the plain, And fix'd his feat where love had fix'd the scene; A ftrong fufpicion ftrait poffefs their mind. (For Poets ever were a gentle kind),
But when Evanthe near the paffage stood, Flung back a doubtful look, and shot the wood, "Now take (at once they cry) thy due reward." And, urg'd with erring rage, affault the Bard. His corpse the sea receiv'd. The dolphins bore ('Twas all the Gods would do) the corpse to shore. Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes, And fee the dreams of ancient wisdom rife; I fee the Mufes round the body cry, But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by; He wheels his arrow with infulting hand, And thus infcribes the moral on the fand. "Here Hefiod lies: ye future Bards, beware How far your moral tales incense the Fair. "Unlov'd, unloving, 't was his fate to bleed; "Without his quiver, Cupid caus'd the deed: "He judg'd this turn of malice juftly due, "And Hefiod dy'd for joys he never knew."
WHEN thy beauty appears
In its graces and airs,
All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky;
At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears,
So ftrangely you dazzle my eye!
But when without art,
Your kind thought you impart,
love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in
Then I know you're a woman again.
There's a paffion and pride
In our fex, fhe reply'd,
And thus, might I gratify both, I would do:
Still an angel appear to each lover befide,
But ftill be a woman to you.
THYRSIS, a young and amorous swain,
Saw two, the beauties of the plain,
Who both his heart fubdue:
Gay Cælia's eyes were dazzling fair,
Sabina's easy shape and air
With fofter magic drew.
|