Jove sent, and found, far in a country scene,
Truth, innocence, good nature, look serene :
From which ingredients first the dextrous boy
firstward,
Pick'd the demure, the awkward, and the coy.
The Graces, from the court did next provide
Breeding, and wit, and air, and decent pride:
These Venus cleans from every spurious grain
Of nice, coquet, affected, pert, and vain.
Jove mix'd up all, and the best clay employ'd;
Then call'd the happy composition FLOYD.
Orabat precibus Cupido blandis,
Ut tandem omnipotens pater deorum
Formosam lege conderet recenti.
Arridens citò, ruris ad recessum
Almus misit avus, Fidemque nudam
Illic repperit, Innocentiamque,
Et vultum placidum, Indolemque suavem :
Dextrâ, quæ, facili Puer peritus
Oris à nimio pudore purgat,
Et morum ruditate ineleganti,
Ac nimis timidâ fugacitate.
Sacræ Pierides parant deinde
Ex aulâ ingenuam Institutionem,
Acumenque acre, Gratiamque formæ,
Cum se non nimis efferente Fasti.
Ab his flava Venus removit omnem
Procul molitiem, et malas dolosæ
Mentis Illecebras, Ineptiasque
Bonum pravé imitantium, levesque
Motus, Gloriolæque Inanitatem.
Miscet omnia Jupiter, lutoque
Temperat meliore, Lydiamque
Inde appellat opus, stupens, superbum.
(TO SWIFT'S VERSES ON BIDDY FLOYD), bo
[These verses were first printed by the learned Dr Barrett, from the Whimsical Medley, a Manuscript from which he recovered several of Dr Swift's lighter pieces. It seems to be alluded to as Swift's, in a stupid imitation of the Liliputian Ode, occurring among other trash in the Gulliveriana.
House of Van, Mother Cludd
Made the man, fond of mud.
I do not, however, pretend to deny that the line may only relate to the poem on Van's house, which begins
When Mother Cludd rose up from play.
In that case the authenticity will rest on the intrinsic evidence.]
VENUS one day, as story goes,
But for what reason no man knows,
In sullen mood and grave deport,
Trudg'd it away to Jove's high court;
And there his Godship did entreat
To look out for his best receipt:
And make a monster strange and odd,
Abhorr'd by man and every god.
Jove ever kind to all the fair,
Nor e'er refus'd a lady's prayer,
Straight ope'd 'scrutore, and forth he took
A neatly bound and well-gilt book;
Sure sign that nothing enter'd there,
But what was very choice and rare.
Scarce had he turn'd a page or two,—
It might be more for aught I know;
But, be the matter more or less,
'Mong friends 'twill break no squares,
Then, smiling, to the dame quoth he,
Here's one will fit you to a T.
But, as the writing doth prescribe,
'Tis fit the ingredients we provide.
Away he went, and search'd the stews,
And every street about the Mews:
Diseases, impudence, and lies,
Are found and brought him in a trice.
From Hackney then he did provide,
A clumsy air and awkward pride:
From lady's toilet next he brought
Noise, scandal, and malicious thought.
These Jove put in an old close-stool,
And with them mix'd the vain, the fool.
But now came on his greatest care,
Of what he should his paste prepare;
For common clay or finer mould
Was much too good, such stuff to hold
At last he wisely thought on mud;
So rais'd it up, and call'd it-Cludd.
With this, the lady well content,
Low courtesy'd, and away she went.
TO THE HONOURABLE MRS FINCH,
UNDER HER NAME OF ARDELIA.
PHOEBUS, now shortening every shade,
Up to the northern tropic came,
And thence beheld a lovely maid,
Attending on a royal dame.
The god laid down his feeble rays,
Then lighted from his glittering coach; But fenc'd his head with his own bays, Before he durst the nymph approach.
Under those sacred leaves, secure
From common lightning of the skies,
He fondly thought he might endure
The flashes of Ardelia's eyes.
The nymph, who oft had read in books
Of that bright god whom bards invoke,
Soon knew Apollo by his looks,
And guess'd his business ere he spoke,
He, in the old celestial cant,
Confess'd his flame, and swore by Styx, Whate'er she would desire, to grant― But wise Ardelia knew his tricks.
* Afterwards Countess of Winchelsea.
Ovid had warn'd her, to beware
Of strolling gods, whose usual trade is, Under pretence of taking air,
To pick up sublunary ladies.
Howe'er she gave no flat denial,
As having malice in her heart; And was resoly'd upon a trial,
To cheat the god in his own art.
"Hear my request," the virgin said;
"Let which I please of all the Nine
Attend, whene'er I want their aid,
Obey my call, and only mine."
By vow oblig'd, by passion led,
The god could not refuse her prayer: He wav'd his wreath thrice o'er her head, Thrice mutter'd something to the air,
And now he thought to seize his due;
But she the charm already tried:
Thalia heard the call, and flew
To wait at bright Ardelia's side.
On sight of this celestial prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay;
Nor in her presence durst be rude,
But made his leg and went away.
He hop'd to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the Muses wait;
But Pallas owns Ardelia's power:
For vows divine are kept by Fate.
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