Juft is your fuit, fair daughter, said the dame : Thofe laurel'd chiefs were men of mighty fame; Nine worthies were they call'd of different rites, Three Jews, three Pagans, and three Christian knights.

Thefe, as you fee, ride foremost in the field,

As they the foremost rank of honour held,
And all in deeds of chivalry excell'd:

}

renew;

For deathlefs laurel is the victor's due:

Who bear the bows were knights in Arthur's reign,
Twelve they, and twelve the peers of Charlemain :
For bows the ftrength of brawny arms imply,
Emblems of valour and of victory.
Behold an order yet of newer date,
Doubling their number, equal in their state;
Our England's ornament, the crown's defence,
In battle brave, protectors of their prince:
Unchang'd by fortune, to their fovereign true,
For which their manly legs are bound with blue.
Thefe, of the garter call'd, of faith unstain'd,
In fighting fields the laurel have obtain'd,
And well repaid the honours which they gain'd.
The laurel wreaths were firft by Cæfar worn,
And ftill they Cæfar's fucceffors adorn :
One leaf of this is immortality,

And more of worth than all the world can buy."
One doubt remains, faid I, the dames in green,
What were their qualities, and who their queen?
Flora commands, faid fhe, thofe nymphs and
knights,

Who liv'd in flothful eafe and loofe delights;
Who never acts of honour durft pursue,
The men inglorious knights, the ladies all untrue:
Who, nurs'd in idleness, and train'd in courts,
Pafs'd all their precious hours in plays and sports,
Till death behind came flalking on, unfeen,
And wither'd (like the ftorm) the freshness of

their green.

Thefe, and their mates, enjoy their prefent hour,
And therefore pay their homage to the flower.
Bat knights in knightly deeds fhould perfevere,7
And ftill continue what at first they were;
Continue, and procced in honour's fair career.
No room for cowardice, or dull delay;
From good to better they should urge their way.

VOL. VI.

Ev'n when the hoary head is hid in fnow;
The life is in the leaf, and ftill between
The fits of falling fnow appears the ftreaky green.
Not fo the flower, which lafts for little space,
A fhort-liv'd good, and an uncertain grace;
This way and that the feeble ftem is driven,
Weak to fuftain the storms and injuries of heaven.
Propp'd by the fpring, it lifts aloft the head,
But of a fickly beauty, foon to fhed;

In fummer living, and in winter dead.
For things of tender kind, for pleasure made,
Shoot up with fwift increase, and fudden are de
cay'd,

With humble words, the wifeft I could frame,
And proffer'd fervice, I repaid the dame;
That, of her grace, she gave her maid to know
The fecret meaning of this moral show.
And fhe, to prove what profit I had made
Of myftic truth, in fables firft convey'd,
Demanded till the next returning May,
Whether the leaf or flower I would obey?
I chose the leaf; fhe fmil'd with fober cheer,
And wifh'd me fair adventure for the year,
And gave me charms and figils, for defence
Against ill tongues that fcandal innocence:
But I, faid the, niy fellows muft pursue,
Already past the plain, and out of view.

We parted thus; I homeward fped my way,
Bewilder'd in the wood till dawn of day:
And met the merry crew who danc'd about the
May.

Then late refresh'd with fleep, I rose to write
The vifionary vigils of the night:

Blush, as thou may'st, my little book, with fhame,
Nor hope with homely verse to purchase fame;
For fuch my Maker chofe: and fo defign'd
Thy fimple ftyle to fuit thy lowly kind.

R

IN days of old, when Arthur fill'd the throne, Whofe acts and fame to foreign lands were blown;

The king of elfs and little fairy queen
Gambol'd on heaths, and danc'd on every green;
And where the jolly troop had led the round,
The grafs unbidden rose, and mark'd the
ground:

Nor darkling did they glance, the filver light
Of Phoebe ferv'd to guide their steps aright,
And, with their tripping pleas'd, prolong the
night.

Her beams they follow'd, where at full fhe play'd, Nor longer than the shed her horns they stay'd, From thence with airy flight to foreign lands convey'd.

Above the reft our Britain held they dear, More folemnly they kept their Sabbaths here, And made more fpacious rings, and revel'd half

For pricfts, with prayers and other goodly geer,
Have made the merry goblins disappear;
And where they play'd their merry pranks
before,

Have sprinkled holy water on the floor:
And friars that through the wealthy regions run,
Thick as the motes that twinkle in the fun,
Refort to farmers rich, and bless their halls,
And exercise the beds, and cross the walls:
This makes the fairy quires forsake the place,
When once 'tis hallow'd with the rites of

grace:

But in the walks where wicked elves have been,"
The learning of the parifh now is feen,
The midnight parfon pofting o'er the green,
With gown tuck'd up, to wakes, for Sunday

next,

With humming ale encouraging his text;
Nor wants the holy leer to country girl betwixt..
From fiends and imps he fets the village free,
There haunts not any incubus but he.
The maids and women need no danger fear
To walk by night, and fanctity fo near:
For by fome haycock, or fome fhady thorn,
He bids his beads both even fong and morn.
It fo befel in this king Arthur's reigu,
A lufty knight was pricking o'er the plain;
A bachelor he was, and of the courtly train.

It happen'd, as he rode, a damfel gay

In ruffet robes to market took her way;
Soon on the girl he caft an amorous eye,

So ftraight fhe walk'd, and on her pasterns high:

If feeing her behind he lik'd her pace,
Now turning fhort, he better likes her face.
He lights in hafte, and, full of youthful fire,
By force accomplish'd his obscene defire :
This done, away he rode, not unefpy'd,
For fwarming at his back the country cry'd:
And once in view they never loft the fight,
But feiz'd, and pinion'd brought to court the
knight.

Then courts of kings were held in high re

nown,

Ere made the common brothels of the town:
There, virgins honourable vows receiv'd,
But chafte as maids in monafteries liv'd:
The king himself, to nuptial ties a flave,
No bad example to his poets gave:
And they, not bad, but in a vicious age,
Had not, to please the prince, debauch'd the stage.
Now what should Arthur do? He lov`d the
knight,

But fovereign monarchs are the fource of right:
Mov'd by the damfel's tears and common cry,
He doom'd the brutal ravither to die.
But fair Geneura rofe in his defence,
And pray'd fo hard for mercy from the prince,
That to his queen the king th' offender gave,
And left it in her power to kill or fave:
This gracious act the ladies all approve,

Who thought it much a man fhould die for love;

And with their mistress join'd in close debate
(Covering their kindness with diffembled
hate),

If not to free him, to prolong his fate.
At laft agreed they call'd him by confent
Before the queen and female parliament.
And the fair speaker rifing from the chair,
Did thus the judgment of the house declare.

Sir knight, though I have afk'd thy life, yet ftill

Thy deftiny depends upon my will:
Nor haft thou other furety than the grace
Not due to thee from our offended race,
But as our kind is of a softer mold,
And cannot blood without a figh behold,
I grant thee life; referving ftill the power
To take the forfeit when I fee my hour:
Unless thy anfwer to my next demand
Shall fet thee free from our avenging hand.
The question, whose solution I require,
Is, What the fex of women moft defire?
In this difpute thy judges are at ftrife;
Beware; for on thy wit depends thy life.
Yet (lest, surpris'd, unknowing what to say,
Thou damn thyself) we give thee farther day:
A year is thine to wander at thy will;
And learn from others, if thou want'st the skill.
But, not to hold our proffer turn'd in fcorn,
Good fureties will we have for thy return;

That at the time prefix'd thou fhalt obey,
And at thy pledge's peril keep thy day.

Woe was the knight at this severe command;

But well he knew 'twas bootlefs to withstand:
The terms accepted as the fair ordain,

He put in bail for his return again,

And promis'd answer at the day affign'd, The best, with heaven's affiftance, he could find.

}

His leave thus taken, on his way he went
With heavy heart, and full of discontent,
Mifdoubting much, and fearful of th' event.
'Twas hard the truth of fuch a point to find,
As was not yet agreed among the kind.
Thus on he went; ftill anxious more and more,
Afk'd all he met, and knock'd at every door;
Inquir'd of men; but made his chief request
To learn from women what they lov'd the
beft.

They answer'd each according to her mind
To please herself, not all the female kind.
One was for wealth, another was for place :
Crones, old and ugly, wish'd a better face.
The widow's wifh was oftentimes to wed;
The wanton maids were all for fport a-bed.
Some faid the fex were pleas'd with handsome
lies,

And fome grofs flattery lov'd without disguise:
Truth is, fays one, he feldom fails to win
Who flatters well; for that's our darling sin ;
But long attendance, and a du'eous mind,
Will work ev'n with the wifeft of the kind.
One thought the fex's prime felicity
Was from the bonds of wedlock to be free:
Their pleasures, hours, and actions, all their

own,

And uncontrol'd to give account to none.
Some wish a husband fool; but such are curst,
For fools perverse of husbands are the worst:
All women would be counted chaste and wise,
Nor fhould our spouses fee, but with our eyes;
For fools will prate; and though they want the

wit

To find close faults, yet open blots will hit: Though better for their eafe to hold their

tongue,

For woman-kind was never in the wrong.
So noise enfues, and quarrels laft for life;
The wife abhors the fool, the fool the wife.
And fome men say that great delight have we,
To be for truth extoll'd, and fecrecy :
And constant in one purpose still to dwell;
And not our husbands counfels to reveal.
But that's a fable: for our fex is frail,
Inventing rather than not tell a tale.
Like leaky fieves no fecrets we can hold :
Witness the famous tale that Ovid told.

Midas the king, as in his book appears,
By Phoebus was endow'd with afs's ears,
Which under his long locks he well conceal'd,
(As monarchs vices must not be reveal'd)
For fear the people have them in the wind,
Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind a

Nor apt to think from heaven their title springs,
Since Jove and Mars left off begetting kings.
This Midas knew: and durft communicate
To none but to his wife his ears of ftate:
One must be trusted, and he thought her fit,
As pafling prudent, and a parlous wit.
To this fagacious confeffor he went,

And told her what a gift the Gods had fent :
But told it under matrimonial feal,
With trick injunction never to reveal.
The fecret heard, the plighted him her troth,
(And facre fure is every woman's oath)
The royal malady should rest unknown,
Both for her husband's honour and her own;
But ne'ertheless fhe pin'd with difcontent;
The counfel rumbled till it found a vent,
The thing the knew he was oblig'd to hide;
By intereft and by oath the wife was ty'd;
But if he told it rot, the woman dy'd.
Loth to betray a husband and a prince,
But he must burst, or blab; and no pretence
Of honour ty'd her tongue from felf-defence.
A marthy ground commodicufly was near,
Thither fhe ran, and held her breath for fear,
Left if a word the fpoke of any thing,
That word might be the fecret of the king.
Thus full of counfel to the fen fhe went,
Grip'd all the way, and longing for a vent;
Arriv'd, by pure neceflity compell'd,
On her majestic marrow-bones fhe kneel'd:
Then to the water's brink the laid her head,
And, as a bittour bumps within a reed,
To thee alone, O lake, fhe faid, I tell,
(And, as thy queen, command thee to con-
ceal):

Beneath his locks the king my husband wears
A goodly royal pair of afs's ears.
Now I have eas'd my bofom of the pain,
Till the next longing fit return again.

Thus through a woman was the fecret known;
Tell us, and in effect you tell the town.
But to my tale: The knight with heavy cheer,
Wandering in vain, had now confum'd the

year:

One day was only left to folve the doubt,

Yet knew no more than when he first fet out.
But home he muft, and, as th' award had been,
Yield up his body captive to the queen.
In this defpairing ftate he hapt to ride,
As fortune led him, by a foreft fide:
Lonely the vale, and full of horror flood,
Brown with the fhade of a religious wood:
When full before him at the noon of night,
(The moon was up, and fhot a gleamy light)
He faw a quire of ladies in a round,
That featly footing feem'd to skim the ground:
Thus dancing hand in hand, fo light they

were,

He knew not where they trod, on earth or air,
At fpeed he drove, and came a fudden gueft,
In hope where many women were, at least,
Some one by chance might anfwer his request.
But falter than his horfe the ladies flew,
And in a trice were vanifh'd out of view.

One only hag remain'd: but fouler far
Than grandame apes in Indian forests are;
Against a wither'd oak the lean'd her weight,
Propp'd on her trusty staff, not half upright,
And dropp'd an aukward court'ly to the
knight.

Then faid, what makes you, Sir, so late abroad
Without a guide, and this no beaten road?
Or want you aught that here you hope to find,
Or travel for fome trouble in your mind?
The laft I guefs; and if I read aright,
Thofe of our fex are bound to ferve a knight;
Perhaps good counfel may your grief affuage,
Then tell your pain; for wifdom is in age.

To this the knight: Good mother, would you know

The fecret caufe and fpring of all my woe?
My life muft with to-morrow's light expire,
Unless I tell what women most defire.
Now could you help me at this hard effay,
Or for your inborn goodness, or for pay;
Yours is my life, redeem'd by your advice,
Afk what you pleafe, and I will pay the price:
The proudest kerchief of the court shall rest
Well fatisfy'd of what they love the best.
Plight me thy faith, quoth fhe, that what I afk,
Thy danger over, and perform'd thy task,
That thou fhalt give for hire of thy demand;
Here take thy oath, and feal it on my hand;
I warrant thee, on peril of my life,

Thy words fhall please both widow, maid, and wife.

More words there needed not to move the knight,

To take her offer, and his truth to plight.
With that fhe fpread a mantle on the ground,
And, first inquiring whither he was bound,
Bade him not fear, though long and rough the

way,

At court he should arrive e'er break of day;
His horfe fhould find the way without a guide.
She faid with fury they began to ride,
He on the midft, the beldam at his fide.
The horse, what devil drove I cannot tell,
But only this, they sped their journey well:
And all the way the crone inform'd the knight,
How he fhould answer the demand aright.

To court they came; the news was quickly

fpread

Of his returning to redeem his head.
The female fenate was affembled foon
With all the mob of women of the town:
The queen fate lord chief justice of the hall,
And bade the crier cite the criminal.
The knight appear'd; and filence they proclaim;
Then first the culprit anfwer'd to his name:
And, after forms of law, was last requir'd
To name the thing that women most desir'd.
Th' offender, taught his leffon by the way,
And by his counsel order'd what to fay,
Thus bold began: My lady liege, said he,
What all your fex defire is fovereignty.
The wife affects her husband to command;
All must be her's, both money, house, and land.

The maids are niftreffes ev'n in their name;
And of their fervants full dominion claim.
This, at the peril of my head, I fay,

A blunt plain truth, the fex afpires to fway,
You to rule all, while we, like flaves, obey.
There was not one, or widow, maid, or wife,
But faid the knight had well deferv'd his life.
Ev'n fair Geneura, with a blush, confefs'd
The man had found what women love the best.
Up ftarts the beldam, who was there un-
feen:

And, reverence made, accofted thus the queen.
My liege, faid fhe, before the court arife,
May I, poor wretch, find favour in your eyes,
To grant my juft request: 'twas I who taught
The knight this anfwer, and infpir'd his thought.
None but a woman could a man direct
To tell us women, what we most affect.
But first I fwore him on his knightly troth,
(And here demand performance of his oath)
To grant the boon that next I should defire;
He gave his faith, and I expect my hire:
My promife is fulfill'd: I fav'd his life,
And claim his debt, to take me for his wife.
The knight was ask'd, nor could his oath deny,
But hop'd they would not force him to com-
ply.

The women, who would rather wreft the laws,
Than let a fifter-plaintiff lose the cause,
(As judges on the bench more gracious are,
And more attent, to brothers of the bar)
Cry'd one and all, the fuppliant fhould have
right,

And to the grandame hag adjudg'd the knight.
In vain he figh'd, and oft with tears defir'd,
Some reasonable fuit might be requir'd.
But ftill the crone was conftant to her note:
The more he spoke, the more she stretch'd her

throat,

In vain he proffer'd all his goods, to fave
His body deftin'd to that living grave.
The liquorish hag rejects the pelf with scorn;
And nothing but the man would ferve her turn.
Not all the wealth of Eastern kings, faid fhe,
Have power to part my plighted love and me:
And, old and ugly as I am, and poor,
Yet never will I break the faith I swore;
For mine thou art by promife, during life,
And I thy loving and obedient wife.

My love! nay rather my damnation thou,
Said he nor am I bound to keep my vow;
The fiend thy fire hath fet thee from below,
Elle how couldst thou my fecret forrows know?
Avaunt, old witch, for I renounce thy bed:
The queen may take the forfeit of my head,

e any of my race fo foul a crone shall wed. Both heard, the judge pronounc'd against the knight;

So was he marry'd in his own despite :
And all day after hid him as an owl,
Not able to fuftain a fight fo foul.

Perhaps the reader thinks I do him wrong,
To pafs the marriage feaft and nuptial fong:
Mirth there was none, the man was à-la-mert,
And little courage had to make his court.

To bed they went, the bridegroom and the bride :

Was never fuch an ill-pair'd couple ty'd:
Reftlefs he tofs'd, and tumbled to and fro,
And roll'd and wriggled further off for woe.
The good old wife lay fmiling by his fide,
And caught him in her quivering arms,
cry'd,

and

When you my ravish'd predecessor saw,
You were not then become this man of straw;
Had you been fuch, you might have 'scap'd the
law.

Is this the custom of king Arthur's court?
Are all round-table knights of fuch a fort?
Remember I am fhe who fav'd your life,
Your loving, lawful, and complying wife:
Not thus you wore in your unhappy hour,
Nor I for this return employ'd my power.
In time of need, I was your faithful friend;
Nor did I fince, nor ever will, offend.
Believe me, my lov`d lord, 'tis much unkind;
What fury has poffefs'd your alter'd mind?
Thus on my wedding night without pretence-
Come turn this way, or tell me my offence.
If not your wife, let reafon's rule perfuade;
Name but my fault, amends fhall foon be
made.

Amends! nay that's impoffible, faid he ;
What change of age or uglinefs can be?
Or, could Medea's magic mend thy face,
Thou art defcended from fo mean a race,
That never knight was match'd with fuch dif-
grace.

What wonder, madam, if I move my side,
When, if I turn, I turn to fuch a bride?
And is this all that troubles you so fore?

And what the devil could't thou with me more?

| Ah, Benedecite, reply'd the crone :
Then caufe of juft complaining have you none.
The remedy to this were foon apply'd,
Would you be like the bridegrom to the bride:
But, for you fay a lung defcended race,
And wealth, and dignity, and power, and
place,

Make gentlemen, and that your high degree
Is much difparag'd to be match'd with me;
Know this, my lord, nobility of blood

Is but a glittering and fallacious good:
The nobleman is he whofe noble mind

Is fill'd with inborn worth, unborrow'd from his kind.

The king of heaven was in a manger laid;
And took his earth but from an humble maid;
Then what can birth, or mortal men, bestow?
Since floods no higher than their fountains flow.
We, who for name and empty honour strive,
Our true nobility from hini derive.

Your ancestors, who puff your mind with pride,
And valt eftates to mighty titles ty'd,
Did not your honour, but their own, advance;
For virtue comes not by inheritance.
If you tralineate from your father's mind,
What are you elfe but of a baftard kind?
Do, as your great progenitors have done,
And by their virtues prove yourself their fon,