Well fung fweet Ovid, in the days of yore,
What flight is that which Love will not explore? 515
And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show
The feats true lovers, when they lift, can do:
Though watch'd and captive, yet in fpite of all,
They found the art of kiffing through a wall.
But now no longer from our Tale to stray,
It happ'd, that once upon a fummer's day,
Our rev'rend Knight was urg'd to am'rous play:
He rais'd his fpoufe ere matin-bell was rung,
And thus his morning canticle he fung.
Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes: Arife, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise! Hear how the doves with penfive notes complain, And in foft murmurs tell the trees their pain: The winter's paft; the clouds and tempefts fly; The fun adorns the fields, and brightens all the fky. Fair without spot, whofe ev'ry charming part My bofom wounds, and captivates my heart; Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage, Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.
This heard, to Damain ftraight a fign fhe made $35
To hafte before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret and undefcry'd he took his way,
And ambush'd close behind an arbour lay.
It was not long ere January came,
And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
Blind as he was, not doubting all was fure,
He turn'd the key, and made the gate fecure.
Here let us walk, he faid, obferv'd by none,
Confcious of pleasures to the world unknown:
So may my foul have joy, as thou my
wife
Art for the dearest folace of my life :
And rather would I chufe, by Heav'n above,
To die this inftant, than to lose thy love.
Reflect what truth was in my paffion shown,
When, unendow'd, I took thee for my own,
And fought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of fight,
Whilft thou art faithful to thy own true Knight,
Nor age, nor blindness, rob me of delight.
Each other lofs with patience I can bear,
The lofs of thee is what I only fear.
Confider then, my lady and my wife,
The folid comforts of a virtuous life.
As firft, the love of Christ himself you gain;
Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
And, laftly, that which fure your mind must move,
My whole estate shall gratify your love:
Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's fun
Displays his light, by Heav'n it fhall be done.
I feal the contract with a holy kifs,
And will perform, by this---my dear, and this---
Have comfort, fpoufe, nor think thy lord unkind;
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind:
For when thy charms my fober thoughts engage,
And join'd to them my own unequal age,
From thy dear fide I have no pow'r to part,
Such fecret tranfports warm my melting heart.
For who that once poffefs'd thofe heav'nly charms,
Could live one moment abfent from thy arms?
He ceas'd, and May with modeft grace reply'd; 575
(Weak was her voice, as while fhe spoke she cry'd)
Heav'n knows (with that a tender figh fhe drew)
I have a foul to fave as well as you;
And, what no less you to my charge commend,
My dearest honour, will to death defend.
you in holy church I gave my hand,
And join'd my heart in wedlock's facred band:
Yet after this, if you diftruft my care,
Then hear, my Lord, and witnefs what I fwear :
Firft may the yawning earth her bofom rend,
And let me hence to hell alive defcend;
Or die the death I dread no less than hell,
Sew'd in a fack, and plung'd into a well;
Ere I my fame by one lewd act difgrace,
Or once renounce the honour of my race.
For know, Sir Knight, of gentle blood I came;
I loath a whore, and startle at the name.
But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
And learn from thence their ladies to fufpect:
Elfe why thefe needlefs cautions, Sir, to me?
Thefe doubts and fears of female conftancy?
This chime ftill rings in ev'ry lady's ear,
The only strain a wife must hope to hear.
Thus while the spoke, a fidelong glance fhe caft,
Where Damian, kneeling, worthip'd as the past.
She faw him watch the motions of her eye,
And fingled out a pear-tree planted nigh:
'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly fhow,
And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.
Thither th' obfequious Squire address'd his pace,
And climbing, in the fummit took his place:
The Knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our Tale purfue.
'Twas now the season when the glorious fun His heav'nly progrefs thro' the Twins had run; And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields, To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields: Clear was the day, and Phœbus, rising bright, Had ftreak'd the azure firmament with light; He pierc'd the glitt'ring clouds with golden ftreams, And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams. It fo befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies fported on the garden-fide,
And in the midst their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round,
The knights fo nimbly o'r the greenfword bound,
That fcarce they bent the flow'rs, or touch'd the
ground.
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daifies fearch'd the flow'ry plain;
While on a bank reclin'd of rifing green,
Thus, with a frown, the King befpoke his Queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women ufe to man:
A thousand authors have this truth made out,
And fad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heav'n reft thy spirit, noble Solomon,
A wifer monarch never faw the fun:
All wealth, all honours, the fupreme degree
Of earthly blifs, was well beftow'd on thee!
For fagely haft thou faid, Of all mankind,
One only juft, and righteous, hope to find :
But fhouldft thou search the spacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found.
Thus fays the King who knew your wickedness; The Son of Sirach teftifies no lefs.
So may fome wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or fome devouring plague confume you all;
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable Knight you fee:
But fince he's blind and old (a helpless case)
His Squire fhall cuckold him before
your face.
Now by my own dread majefty I fwear,
And by this awful fceptre which I bear,
No'impious wretch fhall 'fcape unpunish'd long,
That in my prefence offer's fuch a wrong.
I will this inftant undeceive the Knight,
And, in the very act, restore his fight:
And fet the ftrumpet here in open view,
A warning to thefe ladies, and to you,
And all the faithlefs fex, for ever to be true.
And will you fo, reply'd the Queen, indeed?
Now, by my mother's foul, it is decreed,
She fhall not want an answer at her need.
For her, and for her daughters, Ill engage,
And all the fex in each fucceeding age;
Art fhall be theirs to varnish an offence,
And fortify their crimes with confidence.
Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,
Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place
All they fhall need is to protest and swear,
Breathe a foft figh, and drop a tender tear;
Till their wife hufbands, guil'd by arts like these,
Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geefe.
What though this fland'rous Jew, this Solomon, Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; The wifer wits of later times declare
How conftant, chafte, and virtuous, women are:
Witness the martyrs, who refign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
And witness next what Roman authors tell,
How Arria, Porcia, and Lucretia fell.
But fince the facred leaves to all are free,
And men interpret texts, why should not we?
By this no more was meant, than to have shown,
That fov'reign goodness dwells in him alone,
Who only Is, and is but only One.
But grant the worft; fhall women then be weigh'd
By ev'ry word that Solomon hath faid?
What though this king (as ancient story boasts)
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts;
He ceas'd at laft his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol gods, or more.
Beware what lavish praises you confer
On a rank lecher and idolater;
Whofe reign indulgent God, fays holy writ,
Did but for David's righteous fake permit ;
David, the Monarch after Heaven's own mind,
Who lov'd our fex, and honour'd all our kind.
Well, I'm a woman, and as fuch must speak;
Silence would fweil me, and my heart would break.
Know then, I fcorn your dull authorities,
Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.
By Heav'n, thofe authors are our fex's foes,
Whom, in our right, I must and will oppofe.
Nay (quoth the King) dear Madam, be not wroth;
I yield it up; but fince I gave my oath,
That this much-injur'd Knight again fhould fee,
It must be done---I am a King, faid he,
And one whofe faith has ever facred been---
And fo has mine (the faid)---I am a Queen:
Her anfwer the fhall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all difpute I make.
Try when you lift; and you shall find, my Lord,
It is not in our fex to break our word.
We leave them here in this heroic strain,
And to the Knight our story turns again;
VOL. I.
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