Vaneffa, fill'd with ju dildain, Would still her dignity maintain, Inftructed from her early years To fcorn the art of female tears.

Had he employed his time fo long To teach her what was right and wrong; Yet could fuch notions entertain That all his lectures were in vain? She own'd the wandering of her thoughts; But he must answer for her faults. She well remember'd, to her cost, That all his leffons were not loft. Two maxims she could still produce, And fad experience taught their use; That virtue, pleas'd by being shown, Knows nothing which it dares not own; Can make us without fear disclofe Our inmoft fecrets to our foes: That common forms were not design'd Directors to a noble mind.

Now, faid the nymph, to let you see My actions with your rules agree; That I can vulgar forms defpife, And have no fecrets to disguise: I knew, by what you faid and writ, How dangerous things were men You caution'd me against their charms, wit; But never gave me equal arms;

Your leffons found the weakest part, Aim'd at the head, but reach'd the heart. Cadenus felt within him rife Shame, disappointment, guilt, surprise. He knew not how to reconcile Such language with her usual style: And yet her words were so expreft, He could not hope she spoke in jeft. His thoughts had wholly been confin'd To form and cultivate her mind. He hardly knew, till he was told, Whether the nymph were young or old; Had met her in a public place. Without diftinguishing her face: Much leis could his declining age Vaneffa's earliest thoughts engage; And, if her youth indifference met, His perfon must contempt beget: Or, grant her paffion be fincere, How fhall his innocence be clear? Appearances were all fo ftrong, The world muft think him in the wrong; Would fay, he made a treacherous use Of wit, to flatter and feduce:

The town would fwear, he had betray'd
By magic spells the harmless maid:
And every beau would have his jokes,
That fcholars were like other folks;
And, when Platonic flights were over,
The tutor turn'd a mortal lover!
So tender of the young and fair!
It show'd a true paternal care---
Five thousand guineas in her purse'
The doctor might have fancy'd worse.-

Hardly at length he filence broke,
And faulter'd every word he spoke;
Interpreting her complaifance,
Juft as a man fans confequence.
She rallied well, he always knew:
Her manner now was fomething new;
And what the spoke was in an air
As ferious as a tragic player.
But thofe who aim at ridicule
Should fix upon fome certain rule,
Which fairly hints they are in jest,
Elfe he must enter his protest:
For, let a man be ne'er fo wise,
He may be caught with fober lies;
A fcience which he never taught,
And, to be free, was dearly bought;
For, take it in its proper light,
'Tis juft what coxcombs call a bite.

But, not to dwell on things minute, Vaneffa finish'd the difpute, Brought weighty arguments to prove That reafon was her guide in love. She thought he had himself defcrib'd, His doctrines when the first imbib'd: What he had planted now was grown; His virtues the might call her own; As he approves, as he dislikes, Love or contempt her fancy ftrikes. Self-love, in nature rooted fast, Attends us firft, and leaves us laft: Why the likes him, admire not at her; She loves herfelf, and that's the matter. How was her tutor wont to praise The geniuses of ancient days!

(Those authors he fo oft' had nam'd, For learning, wit, and wisdom, fam'd) Was ftruck with love, esteem, and awe, For persons whom he never faw. Suppofe Cadenus flourish'd then, He muft adore fuch godlike men. If one fhort volume could comprise All that was witty, learn'd, and wife, How would it be efteem'd and read, Although the writer long were dead! If fuch an author were alive, How all would for his friendship strive, And come in crowds to fee his face! And this the takes to be her cafe. Cadenus answers every end, The book, the author, and the friend; The utmoft her defires will reach, Is but to learn what he can teach : His converse is a system fit Alone to fill up all her wit; While every paffion of her mind In him is center'd and confin'd.

Love can with fpeech inspire a mute, And taught Vanessa to dispute. This topic, never touch'd before, Difplay'd her eloquence the more: Her knowledge, with fuch pains acquir'd, By this new paffion grew infpir'd; Through this the made all objects pass, Which gave a tincture o'er the mafs; As rivers though they bend and twine, Still to their fea their course incline; Or, as philofophers, who find Some favourite fyftem to their mind, In every point to make it fit, Will force all nature to fubmit.

Cadenus, who could ne'er fufpect
His leffons would have such effect,
Or be fo artfully apply'd,
Infenfibly came on her fide.
It was an unforeseen event;
Things took a turn he never meant.
Whoe'er excels in what we prize,
Appears a hero in our eyes:

Each girl, when pleas'd with what is taught,
Will have the teacher in her thought,
When Mifs delights in her spinnet,
A fiddler may a fortune get;
A blockhead, with melodious voicė,
In boarding-schools may have his choice;
And oft' the dancing-mafter's art
Climbs from the toe to touch the heart.
In learning let a nymph delight,
The pedent gets a mistress by 't.
Cadenus, to his grief and shame,
Could fcarce oppofe Vaneffa's flame;
And, though her arguments were strong,
At least could hardly with them wrong.
Howe'er it came, he could not tell,
But fure fhe never talk'd fo well.
His pride began to interpofe;
Preferr'd before a crowd of beaux !
So bright a nymph to come unfought!
Such wonder by his merit wrought!
'Tis merit muft with her prevail !
He never knew her judgment fail!
She noted all the ever read!
And had a most discerning head!

'Tis an old maxim in the fchools, That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condefcend to take a bit.

So, when Cadenus could not hide, He chose to juftify, his pride; Conftruing the paffion fhe had shown, Much to her praife, more to his own. Nature in him had merit plac'd, In her a moft judicious taste. Love, hitherto a tranfient gueft, Ne'er held poffeffion of his breaft; So long attending at the gate, Difdain'd to enter in fo late.

Love why do we one paffion call,
When 'tis a compound of them all?
Where hot and cold, where fharp and sweet,
In all their equipages meet;
Where pleasures mix'd with pains appear,
Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear;
Wherein his dignity and age
Forbid Cadenus to engage.

But friendship, in its greatest height,
A conftant, rational delight,
Or virtue's bafis fix'd to laft,
When love allurements long are past,
Which gently warms, but cannot burn,
He gladly offers in return;
His want of paffion will redeem
With gratitude, refpect, esteem;
With that devotion we bestow,
When goddeffes appear below.

While thus Cadenus entertains
Vaneffa in exaited ftrains,
The nymphs in fober words entreats
A truce with all fublime conceits:
For why fuch raptures, flights, and fancies,

To her who durft not read romances?
In lofty ftyle to make replies,
Which he had taught her to defpife?
But when her tutor will affect
Devotion, duty, and respect,
He fairly abdicates the throne ;
The government is now her own;
He has a forfeiture incur'd;
She vows to take him at his word,
And hopes he will not think it strange,
If both should now their ftations change.
The nymph will have her turn to be
The tutor; and the pupil, he:
Though the already can difcern
Her fcholar is not apt to learn;
Or wants capacity to reach
The fcience the defigns to teach:
Wherein his genius was below
The skill of every common beau,
Who, though he cannot spell, is wife
Enough to read a lady's eyes,
And will each accidental glance
Interpret for a kind advance.

But what fuccefs Vaneffa met,
Is to the world a fecret yet.
Whether the nymph, to please her (wain,
Talks in a high romantic strain;
Or whether he at laft defcends
To act with lefs feraphic ends;
Or, to compound the bufinefs, whether
They temper love and books together;

Maft never to mankind be told,
Nor thall the confcious Mufe unfold.

Meantime the mournful Queen of Love

Led but a weary life above.

She ventures now to leave the skies, Grown by Vaneffa's conduct wife: Fer, though by one perverse event Pallas had crofs'd her firft intent; Though her defign was not obtain'd; Yet had the much experience gain'd, And, by the project vainly try'd, Could better now the caufe decide. She gave due notice that both parties, Coram Regina, prox' die Martis, Should at their peril, without fail, Come and appear, and save their bail. All met; and, filence thrice proclaim'd, One lawyer to each fide was nam'd. The judge difcover'd in her face Resentments for her late difgrace; And, full of anger, fhame, and grief, Directed them to mind their brief, Nor spend their time to show their reading; She'd have a fummary proceeding. She gather'd under every head The fum of what each lawyer faid, Gave her own reafons laft, and then Decreed the cause against the men. But, in a weighty cafe like this, To how the did not judge amifs, Which evil tongues might elfe report, She made a speech in open court; Wherein the grievously complains, "How he was cheated by the fwains;" On whofe petition (humbly showing, That women were not worth the wooing, And that, unless the sex would mend,

The race of lovers foon must end)--

44

She was at Lord knows what expence "To form a nymph of wit and sense, A model for her fex defign'd, "Who never could one lover find. "She faw her favour was misplac'd; "The fellows had a wretched tafte; "She needs must tell them to their face,

They were a ftupid, fenfeless race;

"

And, were the to begin again,

"She'd ftudy to reform the men;

84

" To women,

Or add fome grains of folly more
than they had before,

W

To put them on an equal foot;
And this, or nothing else, would do 't.

"This might their mutual fancy ftrike,

Since every being loves its like.

W

But now, repenting what was done,

64

She left all bufinefs to her fon;

L

She puts the world in his poffeffion,

And let him ufe it at difcretion." The cryer was order'd to difmifs The court, fo made his lat O yes! The goddess would no longer wait; But rifing from her chair of state, Left all below at fix and seven, Harness'd her doves, and flew to heaven.

TO LOVE*.

In all I with, how happy fhould I be, Thou grand deluder, were it not for thee! So weak thou art, that fools thy power defpife; And yet so strong, thou triumph'ft o'er the wife. Thy traps are laid with fuch peculiar art, They catch the cautious, let the rafh depart. Moft nets are fill'd by want of thought and care: But too much thinking brings us to thy fnare; Where, held by thee, in flavery we stay, And throw the pleasing part of life away. But, what does most my indignation move, Difcretion! thou wert ne'er a friend to love: Thy chief delight is to defeat those arts, By which he kindles mutual flames in hearts; While the blind loitering God is at his play, Thou fteal'ft his golden-pointed darts away; Those darts which never fail; and in their stead Convey'ft malignant arrows tipt with lead: The heedlefs God, fufpecting no deceits, Shoots on, and thinks he has done wondrous feats: But the poor nymph who feels her vitals burn, And from her fhepherd can find no return, Laments, and rages at the power divine, When, curft Difcretion! all the fault was thine: Cupid and Hymen thou haft fet at odds, And bred fuch feuds between those kindred gods, That Venus cannot reconcile her fons ; When one appears, away the other runs. The former fcales, wherein he us'd to poile Love against love, and equal joys with joys, Are now fill'd up with avarice and pride, Where titles, power, and riches, still fubfide. Then, gentle Venus, to thy father run, And tell him how thy children are undone; Prepare his bolts to give one fatal blow, And ftrike Difcretion to the fhades below.

ODE TO SPRING.
BY A LADY T.

HAIL, bluffing goddefs, beauteous Spring,
Who, in thy jocund train, doft bring
Loves and Graces, fmiling Hours,
Balmy breezes, fragrant flowers;
Come, with tints of rofeate hue,
Nature's faded charms renew.

Yet why fhould I thy presence hail ? To me no more the breathing gale Comes fraught with fweets; no more the rofe With fuch tranfcendant beauty blows, As when Cadenus bleft the fcene, And fhar'd with me thofe joys ferene; When, unperceiv'd, the lambent fire Of friendship kindled new defire : Still liftening to his tuneful tongue, The truths which angels might have fung, Divine, impreft their gentle fway, And fweetly ftole my foul away. My guide, inftructor, lover, friend, (Dear names!) in one idea blend;

*Found in Mifs Vanhomrigh's defe, after her death, in the band-writing of Swift.

t This and the next ode have been ofcribed to

And thou alone within my breast,
O deign to foothe my griefs to reft,
And heal my tortur'd mind.

A REBUS.

BY VANESSA

Cur the name of the man who his miftrefs dé-
And let the first of it be only apply'd
[ny'd,
To join with the prophet † who David did chide;.
Then say what a horfe is that runs very fast ‡;
And that which deferves to be firft put the laft;
Spell all then, and put them together, to find
The Name and the Virtues of him I defign'd.
Like the Patriarch in Egypt, he's vers'd in the
ftate;
[great;
Like the prophet in Jewry, he's free with the
Like a racer he flies to fuccour with speed,
When his friends want his aid, or defert is in need.

THE DEAN'S ANSWER.

THE nymph who wrote this in an amorous fit,
I cannot but envy the pride of her wit,
Which thus the will venture profufely to throw
On fo mean a defign, and a fubje&t so low.
For mean's her defign, and her fubject as mean,
The first but a Rebus, the laft but a Dean.
A Dean's but a parfon : and what is a Rebus?
A thing never known to the Mufes or Phoebus.
The corruption of verfe; for, when all is done,
It is but a paraphrafe made on a pun.
But a genius like her's no fubject can ftifle,
It shows and discovers itself through a trifle.
By reading this trifle, I quickly began
To find her a great wit, but the dean a small man.
Rich ladies will furnish their garrets with stuff,
Which others for mantuas would think fine enough:
So the wit that is lavishly thrown away here,
Might furnish a second-rate poet a year.
Thus much for the verfe; we proceed to the next
Where the Nymph had entirely forsaken her text:

#Jo-feph. † Nathan.

Swift.

Her fine panegyrics are quite out of season,
And what he defcribes to be merit is treafon:
The changes which faction has made in the state,
Have put the dean's politics quite out of date:
Now no one regards what he utters with free-
dom,

And, fhould he write pamphlets, no great man would read 'em ;

And should want or defert stand in need of his aid,

This racer would prove but a dull-founder'd jade

HORACE, BOOK. II. ODE I.

PARAPHRASED.

Addressed to Richard Steel, Efq. 1714.

"En qui promittit cives, urbem fibi curæ, "Imperium fore, & Italiam, & delubra deorum." HOR. I. Sat. vi. 34.

DICK, thou'rt refolv'd, as I am told,
Some strange arcana to unfold,
And, with the help of Buckley's pen,
To vamp the good old caufe again,
Which thou (fuch Burnet's fhrew'd advice is)
Muft furbish up, and nickname Crifis.
Thou pompously wilt let us know
What all the world knew long ago,
(E'er fince Sir William Gore was mayor,
And Harley fill'd the Common's chair)
That we a German Prince must own
When Anne for heaven refigns her throne.
But, more than that, thou'lt keep a rout
With-who is in-and who is out;
Thou'lt rail devoutly at the peace,
And all its fecret caufes trace,

The bucket-play 'twixt Whig and Tories,
Their ups and downs, with fifty stories
Of tricks the Lord of Oxford knows,
And errors of our Plenipoes.
Thon 'It tell of leagues among the great,
Portending ruin to our state;
And of that dreadful coup d'eclat,
Which has afforded thee much chat.
The queen, forsooth, (despotic) gave
Twelve coronets without thy leave!
A breach of liberty, 'tis own'd,
For which no heads have yet aten'd!
Believe me, what thou'ft undertaken
May bring in jeopardy thy bacon;
For madmen, children, wits, and fools,
Should never meddle with edg'd tools.
But, fince thou'rt got into the fire,
And can'ft not easily retire,
Thou must no longer deal in farce,
Nor pump to cobble wicked verse;
Until thou shalt have eas'd thy conscience,
Of spleen, of politics, and nonsense;
And, when thou'ft bid adieu to cares,
And fettled Europe's grand affairs,
'Twill then, perhaps, be worth thy while
For Drury-Lane to fhape thy ftyle:
"To make a pair of jolly fellows,
"The fon and father join, to tell us
"How fons may safely disobey,
"And father's never should fay nay;

By which wife conduct they grow friends

"

At laft-and fo the ftory ends *."

When firft I knew thee, Dick, thou wert
Renown'd, for fkill in Fauftus' art †,
Which made thy clofet much frequented
By buxom laffes-fome repented

Their lucklefs choice of hufbands-others,
Impatient to be like their mothers,
Receiv'd from thee profound directions
How beft to fettle their affections.
Thus thou, a friend to the diftrefs'd,
Didit in thy calling do thy beft.

But now the Senate (if things bit,
And thou at Stockbridge wert not bit)
Muit feel thy eloquence and fire,
Approve thy fchemes, thy wit admire,
Thee with immortal bonours crown,
Whilft, Patriot-like, thou'lt ftrut and frown.
What though by enemies 'tis faid,
The Laurel which adorns thy head,
Muft one day come in competition
By virtue of fome fly petition:
Yet mum for that; hope ftill the beft,
Nor let fuch cares disturb thy reft.

Methinks I hear thee loud as trumpet, As bag-pipe fhrill, or oyster-ftrumpet; Methinks I fee thee, fpruce and fine, With coat embroider'd richly fhine, And dazzle all the idol faces As through the ball thy worship paces ; (Though this I fpeak but at a venture, Suppoling thou haft tick with Hunter) Methinks I fee a black-guard rout Attend thy coach and hear them fhout In approbation of thy tongue, Which (in their style) is purely bung, Now! now you carry all before you! Nor dares one Jacobite or Tory Pretend to answer one fyllable, Except the matchlefs hero Abel 4. What though her highness and her spouse In Antwerp & keep a frugal houfe, Yet, not forgetful of a friend, They'll foen enable thee to spend, If to Macartney thou will toaft, And to his pious patron's gloft. Now manfully thou'lt run a tilt "On paper, for all the blood they've fpilt, "For maffacres, and racks, and flames, "For lands enrich'd by crimson ftreams, "For inquifitions taught by Spain, "Of which the Chriflian world complain." Dick, we agree-all's true thou'ft faid, As that my mufe is yet a maid. But, if I may with freedom talk, All this is foreign to thy walk: Thy genius has perhaps a knack At trudging in a beaten track, Eat is for late affairs as fit As mine for politics and wit.

This is faid to be a plot of a comedy with which Mr. St de bas long threatened the town.

↑ Mr. Steele bad a laboratory at Poplar. At Roper.

Where the Duke of Marlborough then refided. General Macartney

Ir thou canst lay aside a spendthrift's air,
And condefcend to feed on homely fare,
Such as we Minters, with ragouts unftor'd,
Will, in defiance of the law, afford:

Quit thy patrols with Toby's Christmas-box,
And come to me at The Two Fighting Cocks;
Since printing by subscription now is grown
The ftaleft, idleft cheat about the town;
And ev'n Charles Gildon, who, a Papist bred,
Has an alarm against that worship spread,
Is practifing those beaten paths of cruifing,
And for new levies on Propofals mufing.

'Tis true, that Bloomsbury Square's a noble place:
But what are lofty buildings in thy cafe?
What's a fine houfe embellifh'd to profufion,
Where fhoulder-dabbers are in execution?
Or whence its timorous tenant feldom fallies,
But apprehenfive of infulting bailiffs?
This once be mindful of a friend's advice,
And ceafe to be improvidently nice;
Exchange the profpects that delude thy fight,
From Highgate's feep afcent, and Hampstead's
height,

With verdant fcenes, that, from St. George's field, More durable and fafe enjoyments yield.

Here I, ev'n 1, that ne'er till now could find Fafe to my troubled and fufpicious mind, But ever was with jealoufies poffefs'd, Am in a state of indolence and rest; Fearful no more of Frenchmen in disguise, Nor looking upon strangers as on spies, But quite diverted of my former spleen, Am unprovok'd without and calm within: And here I'll wait thy coming, till the fun Shall its diurnal courfe completely run. Think not that thou of fturdy butt fhalt fail; My landlord's cellar is ftock'd with beer and ale,] With every fort of malt that is in ufe, And every county's generous produce. The ready (for here Chriftian faith is fick, Which makes us feldom trefpafs upon tick) Inftantly brings the choiceft liquors out, Whether we aik for home-brew'd or for ftout, For mead or cyder, or, with dainties fed, Ring for a flask or two of white or red,

*This and the preceding poem are printed from com