And one, whofe faith has ever facred been.
And fo has mine (she said)—I am a Queen :
Her anfwer fhe fhall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all dispute I make.
Try when
lift;
you
and you shall find, my Lord,
It is not in our fex to break our word.
We leave them here in this heroic ftrain,
And to the Knight our story turns again;
Who in the garden, with his lovely May,
Sung merrier than the Cuckow or the Jay:
This was his fong; "Oh kind and constant be,
"Conftant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.”
Thus finging as he went, at last he drew
By easy steps, to where the Pear-tree grew :
The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her Love
Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above.
She stopp'd, and fighing: Oh good Gods! fhe cry'd,
What pangs, what fudden fhoots, diftend my fide!
O for that tempting fruit, fo fresh, so green;
Help, for the love of Heaven's immortal Queen!
Help, deareft Lord, and save at once the life
Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!
Sore figh'd the Knight to hear his Lady's cry,
But could not climb, and had no fervant nigh:
Old as he was, and void of eye-fight too,
What could, alas! a helpless husband do?
And must I languish then, she said, and die,
Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
At least, kind Sir, for charity's sweet fake,
Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;
Then from your back I might ascend the tree;
Do you but ftoop, and leave the reft to me.
With all my foul, he thus reply'd again,
I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.
With that, his back against the trunk he bent,
She feiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went.
Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall :
'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refin'd;
Though blunt my tale, yet honeft is my
What feats the Lady in the Tree might do,
I pass, as gambols never known to you ;
But fure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
Than in her life the ever felt before.
In that nice moment, lo! the wondering knight Lookt out, and stood restor❜d to fudden fight.
Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent;
But when he faw his bofom-wife fo drefs'd,
His rage was fuch as cannot be exprefs'd:
Not frantic mothers when their infants die,
With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:
He cry'd, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair;
Death! hell! and furies! what doft thou do there?
What ails my Lord? the trembling dame reply'd;
I thought your patience had been better try'd:
Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind,
This my reward for having cur'd the blind?
Why was I taught to make my husband see,
By struggling with a Man upon a Tree?
Did I for this the power of magic prove?
Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!
If this be struggling, by this holy light,
'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight)
So Heaven preferve the fight it has restor'd,
As with these eyes I plainly faw thee whor'd;
Whor'd by my flave-perfidious wretch! may hell 770
As furely feize thee, as I faw too well.
Guard me, good Angels! cry'd the gentle May,
Pray Heaven, this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you fee,
You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me:
So help me, Fates, as 'tis no perfect sight,
But fome faint glimmering of a doubtful light.
What I have faid (quoth he) I must maintain,
For by th' immortal powers it feem'd too plain-
By all those powers, fome frenzy seiz'd
your
(Reply'd the dame): are these the thanks I find?
Wretch that am, that e'er I was fo kind!
She faid; a rifing figh exprefs'd her woe,
The ready tears apace began to flow,
And, as they fell, fhe wip'd from either eye
The drops (for women, when they lift, can cry).
The Knight was touch'd, and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he chear'd: Madam, 'tis past, and my fhort anger o'er;
Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 Excufe me, dear, if aught amifs was said,
For, on my foul, amends fhall foon be made :
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,
By Heaven, I fwore but what I thought I faw.
Ah, my lov'd lord! 'twas much unkind (fhe cry'd) On bare fufpicion thus to treat your bride.
But, till your fight's establish'd, for a while,
Imperfect objects may your fenfe beguile.
Thus when from fleep we first our eyes display,
The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,
And dusky vapours rife, and intercept the day.
So, just recovering from the fhades of night,
Your fwimming eyes are drunk with fudden light,
Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before
your fight:
Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;
Heaven knows how feldom things are what they feem! Confult your reason, and you soon shall find
was you were jealous, not your wife unkind : Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this,
None judge fo wrong as those who think amiss.
With that she leap'd into her Lord's embrace,
With well-diffembled virtue in her face.
He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er,
Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no more:
Both, pleas'd and blefs'd, renew'd their mutual vows, A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.
Thus ends our tale; whofe moral next to make,
Let all wife husbands hence example take;
And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
To be fo well deluded by their wives.
EHOLD the woes of matrimonial life,
And hear with reverence an experienc'd wife!
To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
And think, for once, a woman tells you true.
In all these trials I have borne a part,
I was myself the fcourge that caus'd the smart;
For, fince fifteen, in triumph have I led
Five captive Hufbands from the Church to bed.
Chrift faw a wedding once, the Scripture fays,
And faw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days;
Whence fome infer, whofe confcience is too nice,
No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
But let them read, and folve me, if they can,
The words addrefs'd to the Samaritan:
Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd;
And fure the certain ftint was ne'er defin'd.
"Encrease and multiply," was Heaven's command,
And that's a text I clearly understand.
This too, "Let men their fires and mothers leave, "And to their dearer wives for ever cleave."
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