Had fome fierce tyrant in her ftead been found, The poor adorer fure had hang'd, or drown'd: But the, your fex's mirrour, free from pride, Was much too meek to prove a homicide.

But to my tale: Some fages have defin'd 440 Pleasure the fov'reign bliss of human-kind : Our knight (who study'd much, we may suppose) Deriv'd his high philosophy from those ; For, like a Prince, he bore the vast expence Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: 445 His house was stately, his retinue gay, Large was his train, and gorgeous his array. His fpacious garden made to yield to none, Was compass'd round with walls of solid stone; Priapus could not half describe the grace 450 Tho' God of Gardens) of this charming place: A place to tire the rambling wits of France In long descriptions, and exceed Romance : Enough to shame the gentlest bard that fings Of painted meadows, and of purling springs. 455 Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground, A crystal fountain spread its streams around, The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd: About this fpring (if ancient fame say true) The dapper Elves their moon-light sports pursue:

Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen, 461
In circling dances gambol'd on the green,
While tuneful fprites a merry concert made,
And airy mufic warbled thro' the shade.
Hither the noble knight would oft repair, 465
(His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care)
For this he held it dear, and always bore
The filver key that lock'd the garden door.
To this sweet place in fummer's fultry heat,
He us'd from noife and bus'nefs to retreat; 470
And here in dalliance fpend the live-long day,
Solus cum fola, with his fprightly May.
For whate'er work was undischarg'd a-bed,
The duteous knight in this fair garden sped.

But ah! what mortal lives of bliss fecure, 475
How short a space our worldly joys endure?
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous kind,
But faithless still, and wav'ring as the wind!
O painted monster, form'd mankind to cheat,
With pleafing poison, and with soft deceit! 480
This rich, this am'rous, venerable knight,
Amidst his ease, his folace, and delight,
Struck blind by thee, refigns his days to grief,
And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.

The rage of jealousy then seiz'd his mind, 485 For much he fear'd the faith of woman-kind.

His wife not fuffer'd from his fide to ftray,
Was captive kept, he watch'd her night and day,
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her fway.
Full oft in tears did hapless May complain, 490
And figh'd full oft; but figh'd and wept in vain ;
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye;
For oh, 'twas fixt; she must possess or die!
Nor less impatience vex'd her am'rous Squire,
Wild with delay, and burning with defire. 495
Watch'd as she was, yet could he not refrain
By secret writing to disclose his pain:
The dame by figns reveal'd her kind intent,
Till both were conscious what each other meant.
Ah, gentle knight, what would thy eyes avail,
Tho' they could fee as far as fhips can fail? 501
'Tis better, fure, when blind, deceiv'd to be,
Than be deluded when a man can fee!

Argus himself, fo cautious and fo wife,
Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes: 505
So many an honest husband may, 'tis known,
Who, wifely, never thinks the case his own.

The dame at last, by diligence and care, Procur'd the key her knight was wont to bear; She took the wards in wax before the fire,

And

gave th' impreffion to the trufty Squire.

510

By means of this, fome wonder fhall appear, Which, in due place and season, you may hear.

Well fung fweet Ovid, in the days of yore, What flight is that, which love will not explore? And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show 516 The feats true lovers, when they lift, can do: 'Tho' watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all, They found the art of kiffing thro' a wall.

But now no longer from our tale to stray; It hap'd, that once upon a fummer's day, 521 Our rev'rend Knight was urg'd to am'rous play: He rais'd his spouse 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, rife! Hear how the doves with penfive notes complain,

526

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 fpot, 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.

530

This heard, to Damian ftrait a fign she made,
To hafte before; the gentle Squire obey'd: 536
Secret and undescry'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; 540
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, Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown : So may my foul have joy, as thou my wife, 545 Art far the deareft 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 passion shewn,
When, unendow'd, I took thee for my own,550
And fought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of fight,
Whilst 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.

555

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; 560