So held the GREEKS quite down from GALEN, So all our Modern Friends maintain (Tho' no great GREEKS) in WARWICK-LANE. Reduce, my Mufe, the wand'ring Song: A Tale fhould never be too long. The more He talk'd, the more She burn'd, But Life, You know, at beft is Pain: For I will die for Love of You: Let wanton Wives by Death be fcar'd: THE LADLE. THE Scepticks think, 'twas long ago, To fee Who were Their Friends or Foes, That fince They gave Things their Beginning; Supine They in their Heav'n remain, The Poets now, and Painters hold And And AMPHITRITE clears his Way And if You fee Him in a Sketch. (Tho' drawn by PAULO or CARACHE) He shows not half his Force and Strength, Strutting in Armour, and at Length: That He may make his proper Figure, The Piece muft yet be four Yards bigger: The NYMPHS conduct Him to the Field: One holds his Sword, and One his Shield: MARS ftanding by afferts his Quarrel: And FAME flies after with a Lawrel These Points, I fay, of Speculation Is it in Equilibrio, If Deities defcend or no? Which in their Nature most conduce Two Gods came therefore from above, Could from our own Perverseness ease Us; Difcourfing largely on this Theme, Note here, that it as true as odd is, That in Disguise a God or Goddess Exerts no fupernatʼral Powers ; But acts on Maxims much like Ours. They spy'd at last a Country Farm, Where all was fnug, and clean, and warm; For Woods before, and Hills behind Secur'd it both from Rain and Wind: Large Oxen in the Fields were lowing: Good Grain was fow'd: good Fruit was growing: Fat Turkeys gobbling at the Door: And Wealth (in fhort) with Peace confented, But But did They in Effect do fo? Have Patience, Friend; and Thou fhalt know. The honeft Farmer and his Wife, To Years declin'd from Prime of Life, Had ftruggl'd with the Marriage Noofe; As almost ev'ry Couple does: Sometimes, My Plague! sometimes, My Darling! Kiffing to Day, to Morrow fnarling; Jointly submitting to endure That Evil, which admits no Cure. Our Gods the outward Gate unbarr'd: Our Farmer met 'em in the Yard; Told 'em, for Supper, or for Bed They might go on, and be worfe fped. So faid, fo done: the Gods confent: JOVE made his Leg, and kifs'd the Dame: Obfequious HERMES did the fame. JOVE kiss'd the Farmer's Wife, You fay. He did but in an honeft Way: Ii Oh! |