Young Hermes next, a close-contriving God,

Her Brows encircled with his Serpent Rod:

Then Plots and fair Excufes, fill'd her Brain,
The Views of breaking am'rous Vows for Gain,
The Price of Favours; the designing Arts
That aim at Riches in Contempt of Hearts;
And for a Comfort in the Marriage Life,
The little, pilf'ring Temper of a Wife.

gave

Full on the Fair his Beams Apollo flung, And fond Perfwafion tip'd her easy Tongue; He her Words, where oily Flatt'ry lays The pleafing Colours of the Art of Praise; And Wit, to Scandal exquifitely prone, Which frets another's Spleen to cure its own.

Thofe facred Virgins whom the Bards revere, Tun'd all her Voice, and fhed a Sweetness there,

To

To make her Sense with double Charms abound, Or make her lively Nonsense please by Sound.

To dress the Maid, the decent Graces brought
A Robe in all the Dies of Beauty wrought,
And plac'd their Boxes o'er a rich Brocade
Where pictur'd Loves on ev'ry cover play'd;
Then spread those Implements that Vulcan's Art
Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's Heart;

The Wire to curl, the clofe-indented Comb
To call the Locks that lightly wander, home;
And chief, the Mirrour, where the ravish'd Maid
Beholds and loves her own reflected Shade.

Fair Flora lent her Stores, the purpled Hours Confin'd her Treffes with a Wreath of Flow'rs i Within the Wreath arofe a radiant Crown;

A Veil pellucid hung depending down;

Back roll'd her azure Veil with Serpent fold, The purfled Border deck'd the Floor with Gold. Her Robe (which closely by the Girdle brac't Reveal'd the Beauties of a flender Waste)

Flow'd to the Feet; to copy Venus' Air,

When Venus' Statues have a Robe to wear.

The new-fprung Creature finifh'd thus for Harms, Adjusts her Habit, practises her Charms,

With Blushes glows, or fhines with lively Smiles, Confirms her Will, or recollects her Wiles: Then confcious of her Worth, with easy Pace Glides by the Glass, and turning views her Face.

A finer Flax than what they wrought before, Thro' Time's deep Cave the Sifter Fates explore, Then fix the Loom, their Fingers nimbly weave, And thus their Toil prophetick Songs deceive.

Flow

Flow from the Rock, my Flax! and swiftly flow, Purfue thy Thread; the Spindle runs below. A Creature fond and changing, fair and vain, The Creature Woman, rifes now to reign. New Beauty blooms, a Beauty form'd to fly; New Love begins, a Love produc'd to dye; New Parts diftrefs the troubled Scenes of Life, The fondling Mistress, and the ruling Wife.

Men, born to Labour, all with Pains provide; Women have Time, to facrifice to Pride:

They want the Care of Man, their Want they know,
And dress to please with heart-alluring Show,
The Show prevailing, for the Sway contend,
And make a Servant where they meet a Friend.

Thus in a thoufand wax-erected Forts

A loytering Race the painful Bee fupports,

From

From Sun to Sun, from Bank to Bank he flies,

With Honey loads his Bag, with Wax his Thighs, Fly where he will, at home the Race remain, Prune the filk Dress, and murm'ring eat the Gain.

Yet here and there we grant a gentle Bride,
Whose Temper betters by the Father's fide;
Unlike the rest that double human Care,
Fond to relieve, or refolute to fhare:
Happy the Man whom thus his Stars advance!
The Curfe is gen'ral, but the Bleffing Chance.

Thus fung the Sifters, while the Gods admire Their beauteous Creature, made for Man in Ire; The young 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;