There lived in Lombardy, as authors write,In days of old, a wise and worthy knight;Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,Blest with much sense,[1]more riches, and some grace.Yet led astray by Venus' soft delights5He scarce could rule some idle appetites:For long ago, let priests say what they could,Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.But in due time, when sixty years were o'er,He vowed to lead this vicious life no more;10Whether pure holiness inspired his mind,Or dotage turned his brain, is hard to find;But his high courage[2]pricked him forth to wed,And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.This was his nightly dream, his daily care,15And to the heav'nly pow'rs his constant prayer,Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful lifeOf a kind husband and a loving wife.[3]These thoughts he fortified with reasons still,For none want reasons to confirm their will.20Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:But depth of judgment most in him appears,Who wisely weds in his maturer years.[4]Then let him chuse a damsel young and fair,25To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;To sooth his cares, and free from noise and strife,Conduct him gently to the verge of life.Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,Full well they merit all they feel, and more:30Unawed by precepts, human or divine,Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join:Nor know to make the present blessing last,To hope the future, or esteem the past:But vainly boast the joys they never tried,35And find divulged the secrets they would hide.The married man may bear his yoke with ease,Secure at once himself and heav'n to please;And pass his inoffensive hours away,In bliss all night, and innocence all day:40Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains,Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare?Some wicked wits have libelled all the fair.With matchless impudence they style a wife45The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,A night invasion, and a mid-day devil.Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard,But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard.[5]50All other goods by fortune's hand are giv'n,A wife is the peculiar gift of heav'n.Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay,Like empty shadows, pass, and glide away;One solid comfort, our eternal wife,55Abundantly supplies us all our life;This blessing lasts, if those who try, say true,As long as heart can wish—and longer too.Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possessed,Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unblessed,60With mournful looks the blissful scenes surveyed,And wandered in the solitary shade.The Maker saw, took pity, and bestowedWoman, the last, the best reserve of God.A wife! ah gentle deities,[6]can he,65That has a wife, e'er feel adversity?Would men but follow what the sex advise,All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob wonHis father's blessing from an elder son:[7]70Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit lifeTo the wise conduct of a prudent wife:Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,Preserved the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian foe:[8]At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword75Was sheathed, and Israel lived to bless the Lord.These weighty motives, January the sageMaturely pondered in his riper age;And charmed with virtuous joys, and sober life,Would try that christian comfort, called a wife.80His friends were summoned on a point so nice,[9]To pass their judgment, and to give advice;But fixed before, and well resolved was he,As men that ask advice are wont to be.My friends, he cried (and cast a mournful look85Around the room, and sighed before he spoke):Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,And, worn with cares, am hast'ning to my end;How I have lived, alas! you know too well,In worldly follies, which I blush to tell;90But gracious heav'n has ope'd my eyes at last,With due regret I view my vices past,And, as the precept of the church decrees,Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.But since by counsel all things should be done,95And many heads are wiser still than one,Chuse you for me,[10]who best shall be contentWhen my desire's approved by your consent.One caution yet is needful to be told,To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:[11]100There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said,Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.My soul abhors the tasteless, dry embraceOf a stale virgin with a winter face:In that cold season love but treats his guest105With bean-straw, and tough forage at the bestNo crafty widows shall approach my bed;Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.As subtle clerks by many schools are made,Twice married dames are mistresses o' th' trade:110But young and tender virgins ruled with ease,We form like wax, and mould them as we please.Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss;'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss;Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse,115As flesh is frail, and who, God help me, knows?Then should I live in lewd adultery,And sink downright to Satan when I die.Or were I cursed with an unfruitful bed,The righteous end were lost for which I wed;120To raise up seed to bless the pow'rs above,And not for pleasure only, or for love.[12]Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a wife,When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life:Those that are blest with store of grace divine,125May live like saints, by heav'n's consent, and mine.[13]And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may,)My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart,And a new vigour springs in ev'ry part.130Think not my virtue lost, though time has shedThese rev'rend honours on my hoary head:Thus trees are crowned with blossoms white as snow,The vital sap then rising from below.[14]Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear135Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.Now, sirs, you know, to what I stand inclined,Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his mind.[15]He said; the rest in diff'rent parts divide;The knotty point was urged on either side:140Marriage, the theme on which they all declaimed,Some praised with wit, and some with reason blamed,Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,Each wond'rous positive, and wond'rous wise,There fell between his brothers a debate,145Placebo this was called, and Justin that.First to the knight Placebo thus begun,(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone,)Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears,As plainly proves, experience dwells with years;150Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice,To work by counsel when affairs are nice:But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest,}So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,}As still I hold your own advice the best.}155Sir, I have lived a courtier all my days,And studied men, their manners, and their ways;And have observed this useful maxim still,To let my betters always have their will.Nay, if my lord affirmed that black was white,160My word was this, "Your honour's in the right."Th' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise,As his mistaken patron to advise,Let Tirm not dare to vent his dang'rous thought,A noble fool was never in a fault.[16]165This, sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry wordIs weighed with judgment, and befits a lord:Your will is mine; and is, I will maintain,Pleasing to God, and should be so to man;At least your courage all the world must praise,170Who dare to wed in your declining days.Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,And let grey fools be indolently good,Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,With rev'rend dulness and grave impotence.[17]175Justin, who silent sat, and heard the man,Thus, with a philosophic frown, began:A heathen author,[18]of the first degree,Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we,Bids us be certain our concerns to trust180To those of gen'rous principles, and just.The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,To give your person, than your goods away:And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest,First learn your lady's qualities at least:185Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil;Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool,Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule.[19]'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find190In all this world, much less in woman-kind;But if her virtues prove the larger share,Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend,Who knows too well the state you thus commend;195And spite of all its praises must declare,All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.Heav'n knows, I shed full many a private tear,And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear:While all my friends applaud my blissful life,200And swear no mortal's happier in a wife;Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,The meekest creature that beholds the sun!But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain,And he that smarts has reason to complain.205Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:But at these years to venture on the fair![20]By him, who made the ocean, earth, and air,To please a wife, when her occasions call,210Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.And trust me, sir, the chastest you can chuseWill ask observance, and exact her dues.If what I speak my noble lord offend,My tedious sermon here is at an end.[21]215'Tis well, 'tis wond'rous well, the knight replies,Most worthy kinsman, faith you're mighty wise!We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the causeTo heath'nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.He spoke with scorn, and turned another way:—220What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?I say, quoth he, by heav'n the man's to blame,To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.At this the council rose, without delay;Each, in his own opinion, went his way;225With full consent, that, all disputes appeased,The knight should marry, when and where he pleased.Who now but January exults with joy?The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:Each nymph by turns his wav'ring mind possessed,230And reigned the short-lived tyrant of his breast;Whilst fancy pictured ev'ry lively part,And each bright image wandered o'er his heart.Thus, in some public forum fixed on high,A mirror shows the figures moving by;235Still one by one, in swift succession, passThe gliding shadows o'er the polished glass.This lady's charms the nicest could not blame,But vile suspicions had aspersed her fame;That was with sense, but not with virtue, blest:240And one had grace, that wanted all the rest.Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,He fixed at last upon the youthful May.Her faults he knew not, love is always blind,But ev'ry charm revolved within his mind:245Her tender age, her form divinely fair,Her easy motion, her attractive air,Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,Her moving softness, and majestic grace.[22]Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice,250And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:[23]Once more in haste he summoned ev'ry friend,And told them all, their pains were at an end.[24]Heav'n, that (said he) inspired me first to wed,Provides a consort worthy of my bed:255Let none oppose th' election, since on thisDepends my quiet, and my future bliss.[25]A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise;Chaste, though not rich; and though not nobly born,260Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.[26]Her will I wed, if gracious heav'n so please;To pass my age in sanctity and ease;And thank the pow'rs, I may possess aloneThe lovely prize, and share my bliss with none!265If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,My joys are full, my happiness is sure.One only doubt remains: Full oft, I've heard,By casuists grave, and deep divines averred;That 'tis too much for human race to know270The bliss of heav'n above, and earth below.Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great,To match the blessings of the future state,Those endless joys were ill exchanged for these;Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.[27]275This Justin heard, nor could his spleen controul,Touched to the quick, and tickled at the soul.Sir knight, he cried, if this be all your dread,Heav'n put it past your doubt, whene'er you wed;And to my fervent prayers so far consent,280That ere the rites are o'er, you may repent!Good heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial state approves,Since it chastises still what best it loves.Then be not, sir, abandoned to despair;}Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair,}285One, that may do your business to a hair;}Not ev'n in wish, your happiness delay,But prove the scourge to lash you on your way:Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go,Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow!290Provided still, you moderate your joy,Nor in your pleasures all your might employ;Let reason's rule your strong desires abate,Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,295Who solve these questions beyond all dispute;Consult with those, and be of better cheer;Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.So said, they rose, no more the work delayed;[28]The match was offered, the proposals made300The parents, you may think, would soon comply;The old have int'rest ever in their eye.Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind;When fortune favours, still the fair are kind.[29]I pass each previous settlement and deed,305Too long for me to write, or you to read;Nor will with quaint impertinence displayThe pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.[30]The time approached, to church the parties went,At once with carnal and devout intent:[31]310Forth came the priest, and bade th' obedient wifeLike Sarah or Rebecca lead her life:Then prayed the pow'rs the fruitful bed to bless,And made all sure enough with holiness.And now the palace-gates are opened wide,}315The guests appear in order, side by side,}And placed in state, the bridegroom and the bride.[32]}The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around,And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound;The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring,320These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string.Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre,Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire,Nor fierce Theodomas,[33]whose sprightly strainCould swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train.325Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace,(So poets sing) was present on the place:And lovely Venus, goddess of delight,}Shook high her flaming torch in open sight,}And danced around, and smiled on ev'ry knight:}330Pleased her best servant would his courage try,No less in wedlock, than in liberty.Full many an age old Hymen had not spiedSo kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.Ye bards! renowned among the tuneful throng335For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song,Think not your softest numbers can displayThe matchless glories of this blissful day;The joys are such, as far transcend your rage,When tender youth has wedded stooping age.340The beauteous dame sate smiling at the board,And darted am'rous glances at her lord.Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing,E'er looked so lovely on her Persian king:Bright as the rising sun, in summer's day,345And fresh and blooming as the month of May!The joyful knight surveyed her by his side,Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride;Still as his mind revolved with vast delightTh' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night,350Restless he sate, invoking ev'ry pow'rTo speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.Mean time the vig'rous dancers beat the ground,And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round.With od'rous spices they perfumed the place,355And mirth and pleasure shone in ev'ry face.Damian alone, of all the menial train,Sad in the midst of triumphs, sighed for pain;Damian alone, the knight's obsequious squire,Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire.360His lovely mistress all his soul possest,He looked, he languished, and could take no rest:His task performed, he sadly went his way,Fell on his bed, and loathed the light of day.There let him lie; till his relenting dame365Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.The weary sun, as learned poets write,Forsook th' horizon, and rolled down the light;While glitt'ring stars his absent beams supply,And night's dark mantle overspread the sky.370Then rose the guests; and as the time required,Each paid his thanks, and decently retired.The foe once gone, our knight prepared t' undress,So keen he was, and eager to possess:But first thought fit th' assistance to receive,375Which grave physicians scruple not to give;Satyrion near, with hot eringos stood,Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes,And critics learn'd explain to modern times.380By this the sheets were spread, the bride undressed,The room was sprinkled, and the bed was blessed.[34]What next ensued beseems not me to say;[35]'Tis sung, he laboured till the dawning day,Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light,}385As all were nothing he had done by night;}And sipped his cordial as he sat upright.}He kissed his balmy spouse with wanton play,And feebly sung a lusty roundelay;[36]Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;390For ev'ry labour must have rest at last.But anxious cares the pensive squire oppressed,Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast;The raging flames that in his bosom dwell,He wanted art to hide, and means to tell.395Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray,Composed a sonnet to the lovely May;Which writ and folded with the nicest art,He wrapped in silk, and laid upon his heart.When now the fourth revolving day was run,400('Twas June, and Cancer had received the sun)Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride,The good old knight moved slowly by her side.High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall;[37]The servants round stood ready at their call.405The squire alone was absent from the board,And much his sickness grieved his worthy lord,Who prayed his spouse, attended with her train,To visit Damian, and divert his pain.[38]Th' obliging dames obeyed with one consent;410They left the hall, and to his lodging went.The female tribe surround him as he lay,And close beside him sat the gentle May:Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drewA heaving sigh,[39]and cast a mournful view!415Then gave his bill, and bribed the pow'rs divine,With secret vows, to favour his design.[40]Who studies now but discontented May?On her soft couch uneasily she lay:The lumpish husband snored away the night,420Till coughs awaked him near the morning light.What then he did, I'll not presume to tell,Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or hell:Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay,Till the bell tolled, and all arose to pray.425Were it by forceful destiny decreed,Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed;Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,Shed its selectest influence from above;Whatever was the cause, the tender dame430Felt the first motions of an infant flame;Received th' impressions of the love-sick squire,And wasted in the soft infectious fire.Ye fair, draw near, let May's example moveYour gentle minds to pity those who love!435Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found,The poor adorer sure had hanged, or drowned:But she, your sex's mirrour, free from pride,Was much too meek to prove a homicide.[41]But to my tale: Some sages[42]have defined440Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of human-kind:Our knight (who studied much, we may suppose)Derived his high philosophy from those;For, like a prince, he bore the vast expenseOf lavish pomp, and proud magnificence:445His house was stately, his retinue gay,Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.His spacious garden made to yield to none,Was compassed round with walls of solid stone;Priapus could not half describe the grace450(Though god of gardens) of this charming place:A place to tire the rambling wits of FranceIn long descriptions, and exceed romance:Enough to shame the gentlest bard that singsOf painted meadows, and of purling springs.[43]455Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground,}A crystal fountain spread its streams around,}The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crowned:}About this spring, if ancient fame say true,The dapper elves their moonlight sports pursue:460Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen,[44]In circling dances gambolled on the green,While tuneful sprites a merry concert made,And airy music warbled through 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 boreThe silver key that locked the garden door.To this sweet place in summer's sultry heat,He used from noise and bus'ness to retreat;470And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May.For whate'er work was undischarged a-bed,The duteous knight in this fair garden sped.[45]But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure,475How short a space our worldly joys endure!O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous kind,But faithless still, and way'ring as the wind!O painted monster, formed mankind to cheat,With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit!480This rich, this am'rous, venerable knight,Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight,Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief,And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.[46]The rage of jealousy then seized his mind,485For much he feared the faith of woman-kind.[47]His wife, not suffered from his side to stray,}Was captive kept, he watched her night and day,}Abridged her pleasures, and confined her sway.}Full oft in tears did hapless May complain,490And sighed full oft; but sighed and wept in vain;She looked on Damian with a lover's eye;For oh, 'twas fixed, she must possess or die!Nor less impatience vexed her am'rous squire,Wild with delay, and burning with desire.495Watched as she was, yet could he not refrainBy secret writing to disclose his pain;The dame by signs revealed her kind intent,Till both were conscious what each other meant.Ah, gentle knight, what would thy eyes avail,500Though they could see as far as ships can sail?'Tis better, sure, when blind, deceived to be,Than be deluded when a man can see![48]Argus himself, so cautious and so wise,Was over-watched, for all his hundred eyes:505So many an honest husband may, 'tis known,Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own.The dame at last, by diligence and care,Procured the key her knight was wont to bear;She took the wards in wax before the fire,510And gave th' impression to the trusty squire.By means of this, some wonder shall appear,Which, in due place and season, you may hear.Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of yore,What sleight is that, which love will not explore?515And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly showThe feats true lovers, when they list, can do:Though watched and captive, yet in spite of all,They found the art of kissing[49]through a wall.But now no longer from our tale to stray;}520It happed that once upon a summer's day,}Our rev'rend knight was urged to am'rous play:}He raised his spouse ere matin-bell was rung,And thus his morning canticle he sung.Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes;525Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise!Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain,And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain:[50]The winter's past; the clouds and tempests fly;The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.530Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming partMy bosom wounds, and captivates my heart;Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage,Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made,535To haste before; the gentle squire obeyed:Secret and undescried he took his way,And, ambushed close, behind an arbour lay,It was not long ere January came,And, hand in hand with him his lovely dame;540Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,He turned the key, and made the gate secure.Here let us walk, he said, observed by none,Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:So may my soul have joy, as thou my wife545Art far the dearest solace of my life;And rather would I chuse, by heav'n above,To die this instant, than to lose thy love.[51]Reflect what truth was in my passion shown,}When, unendowed, I took thee for my own,}550And sought no treasure but thy heart alone.}Old as I am, and now deprived of sight,}Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true knight,}Nor age, nor blindness, rob me of delight.}Each other loss with patience I can bear,555The loss of thee is what I only fear.Consider then, my lady and my wife,The solid comforts of a virtuous life.As first, the love of Christ himself you gain;Next, your own honour undefiled maintain;560And lastly, that which sure your mind must move,[52]My whole estate shall gratify your love:Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's sunDisplays his light, by heav'n it shall be done.I seal the contract with a holy kiss,565And will perform, by this—my dear, and this.[53]Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy lord unkind;'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind.For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage,And joined to them my own unequal age,[54]570From thy dear side I have no pow'r to part,Such secret transports warm my melting heart.For who that once possessed those heav'nly charms,Could live one moment absent from thy arms?He ceased, and May with modest grace replied;575(Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cried;)Heav'n knows (with that a tender sigh she drew)I have a soul to save as well as you;And, what no less you to my charge commend,My dearest honour, will to death defend.580To you in holy church I gave my hand,And joined my heart in wedlock's sacred band:Yet, after this, if you distrust my care,Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear:First may the yawning earth her bosom rend,585And let me hence to hell alive descend;[55]Or die the death I dread no less than hell,Sewed in a sack, and plunged into a well,[56]Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace,Or once renounce the honour of my race.590For know, sir knight, of gentle blood I came,I loath a whore, and startle at the name.But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,And learn from thence their ladies to suspect:Else why these needless cautions, sir, to me?595These doubts and fears of female constancy!This chime still rings in ev'ry lady's ear,The only strain a wife must hope to hear.Thus while she spoke, a sidelong glance she castWhere Damian, kneeling, worshipped as she passed:[57]600She saw him watch the motions of her eye,And singled out a pear-tree planted nigh:[58]'Twas charged with fruit that made a goodly show,And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.Thither th' obsequious squire addressed his pace,605And climbing, in the summit took his place;The knight and lady walked beneath in view,Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.'Twas now the season when the glorious sunHis heav'nly progress through the Twins had run;610And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields:Clear was the day, and Phœbus rising bright,Had streaked the azure firmament with light;He pierced the glitt'ring clouds with golden streams,615And warmed the womb of earth with genial beams.It so befel, in that fair morning tide,}The fairies sported on the garden side,}And in the midst their monarch and his bride.}So featly tripped the light-foot ladies round,}620The knights so nimbly o'er the green-sward bound,}That scarce they bent the flow'rs, or touched the ground.[59]}The dances ended, all the fairy trainFor pinks and daisies searched the flow'ry plain;While on a bank reclined of rising green,625Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen:'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,The treachery you women use to man:A thousand authors have this truth made out,And sad experience leaves no room for doubt.630Heav'n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,A wiser monarch never saw the sun:All wealth, all honours, the supreme degreeOf earthly bliss, was well bestowed on thee!For sagely hast thou said: Of all mankind,635One only just, and righteous, hope to find:But should'st thou search the spacious world around,Yet one good woman is not to be found.Thus says the king who knew your wickedness;The son of Sirach[60]testifies no less.640So may some wildfire on your bodies fall,Or some devouring plague consume you all;As well you view the lecher in the tree,And well this honourable knight you see:But since he's blind and old (a helpless case)645His squire shall cuckold him before your face.Now by my own dread majesty I swear,And by this awful sceptre which I bear,No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunished long,That in my presence offers such a wrong.650I will this instant undeceive the knight,And, in the very act, restore his sight:And set the strumpet here in open view,}A warning to these ladies,[61]and to you,}And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.}655And will you so, replied the queen, indeed?}Now, by my mother's soul it is decreed,}She shall not want an answer at her need.}For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage,And all the sex in each succeeding age;660Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,And fortify their crimes with confidence.Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,Seen with both eyes, and pinioned on the place;All they shall need is to protest and swear,665Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;[62]Till their wise husbands, gulled by arts like these,Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.What though this sland'rous Jew, this Solomon,Called women fools, and knew full many a one;670The wiser wits of later times declare,How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are:Witness the martyrs, who resigned their breath,Serene in torments, unconcerned in death;[63]And witness next what Roman authors tell,675How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.But since the sacred leaves to all are free,And men interpret texts, why should not we?By this no more was meant, than to have shown,}That sov'reign goodness dwells in him alone}680Who only Is, and is but only One.[64]}But grant the worst; shall women then be weighedBy ev'ry word that Solomon has said?What though this king (as ancient story boasts)Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts;685He ceased at last his Maker to adore,And did as much for idol gods, or more.Beware what lavish praises you conferOn a rank lecher and idolater;Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ,690Did but for David's righteous sake permit;David, the monarch after heav'n's own mind,Who loved our sex, and honoured all our kind.Well, I'm a woman, and as such must speak;Silence would swell me, and my heart would break.695Know then, I scorn your dull authorities,Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.By heav'n, those authors are our sex's foes,Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose.Nay, quoth the king, dear madam, be not wroth:700I yield it up; but since I gave my oath,That this much injured knight again should see,It must be done—I am a king, said he,And one whose faith has ever sacred been.And so has mine, she said, I am a queen:705Her answer she shall have, I undertake;And thus an end of all dispute I make.Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord,It is not in our sex to break our word.[65]We leave them here in this heroic strain,710And to the knight our story turns again;Who in the garden, with his lovely May,Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay:This was his song; "Oh kind and constant be,Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."715Thus singing as he went, at last he drewBy easy steps, to where the pear-tree grew:The longing dame looked up, and spied her love,Full fairly perched among the boughs above.She stopped, and sighing: Oh, good gods, she cried,720What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side?Oh for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green;Help, for the love of heav'n's immortal queen;Help, dearest lord, and save at once the lifeOf thy poor infant, and thy longing wife![66]725Sore sighed the knight to hear his lady's cry,But could not climb, and had no servant nigh:Old as he was, and void of eye-sight too,What could, alas! a helpless husband do?And must I languish then, she said, and die,730Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?At least, kind sir, for charity's sweet sake,Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;Then from your back I might ascend the tree;Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.735With all my soul, he thus replied again,I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.With that, his back against the trunk he bent,She seized a twig, and up the tree she went.Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!740Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refined,Though blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind.What feats the lady in the tree might do,I pass as gambols never known to you;745But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore,Than in her life she ever felt before.In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring knightLooked out, and stood restored to sudden sight.Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,750As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent;But when he saw his bosom-wife so dressed,His rage was such as cannot be expressed:Not frantic mothers when their infants die,With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:755He cried, he roared, he stormed, he tore his hair;Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there!What ails my lord? the trembling dame replied;I thought your patience had been better tried;Is this your love, ungrateful, and unkind,760This my reward for having cured the blind?Why was I taught to make my husband see,By struggling with a man upon a tree?Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove?Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!765If this be struggling, by this holy light,'Tis struggling with a vengeance, quoth the knight;So heav'n preserve the sight it has restored,As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored;Whored by my slave—perfidious wretch! may hell770As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.Guard me, good angels! cried the gentle May,Pray heav'n this magic work the proper way!Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see,You ne'er had used these killing words to me:775So help me, fates, as 'tis no perfect sight,But some faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light.What I have said, quoth he, I must maintain,For by th' immortal pow'rs it seemed too plain.By all those pow'rs, some frenzy seized your mind,}780Replied the dame, are these the thanks I find?}Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!}She said; a rising sigh expressed her woe,The ready tears apace began to flow,And as they fell she wiped from either eye785The drops; for women, when they list, can cry.The knight was touched; and in his looks appearedSigns of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheered:Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er!Come down, and vex your tender heart no more;790Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said,For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made:Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,By heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw.Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind, she cried,795On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride.But till your sight's established, for awhile,Imperfect objects may your sense beguile.Thus when from sleep we first our eyes display,}The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,}800And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the day:}So just recov'ring from the shades of night,}Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light,}Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight.}Then, sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;805Heav'n knows how seldom things are what they seem!Consult your reason, and you soon shall find'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind:Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this,None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.810With that she leaped into her lord's embraceWith well-dissembled virtue in her face.He hugged her close, and kissed her o'er and o'er,Disturbed with doubts and jealousies no more:Both, pleased and blessed, renewed their mutual vows,815A fruitful wife and a believing spouse.Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make,Let all wise husbands hence example take;And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,To be so well deluded by their wives.[67]820
There lived in Lombardy, as authors write,In days of old, a wise and worthy knight;Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,Blest with much sense,[1]more riches, and some grace.Yet led astray by Venus' soft delights5He scarce could rule some idle appetites:For long ago, let priests say what they could,Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.But in due time, when sixty years were o'er,He vowed to lead this vicious life no more;10Whether pure holiness inspired his mind,Or dotage turned his brain, is hard to find;But his high courage[2]pricked him forth to wed,And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.This was his nightly dream, his daily care,15And to the heav'nly pow'rs his constant prayer,Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful lifeOf a kind husband and a loving wife.[3]These thoughts he fortified with reasons still,For none want reasons to confirm their will.20Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:But depth of judgment most in him appears,Who wisely weds in his maturer years.[4]Then let him chuse a damsel young and fair,25To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;To sooth his cares, and free from noise and strife,Conduct him gently to the verge of life.Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,Full well they merit all they feel, and more:30Unawed by precepts, human or divine,Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join:Nor know to make the present blessing last,To hope the future, or esteem the past:But vainly boast the joys they never tried,35And find divulged the secrets they would hide.The married man may bear his yoke with ease,Secure at once himself and heav'n to please;And pass his inoffensive hours away,In bliss all night, and innocence all day:40Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains,Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare?Some wicked wits have libelled all the fair.With matchless impudence they style a wife45The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,A night invasion, and a mid-day devil.Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard,But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard.[5]50All other goods by fortune's hand are giv'n,A wife is the peculiar gift of heav'n.Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay,Like empty shadows, pass, and glide away;One solid comfort, our eternal wife,55Abundantly supplies us all our life;This blessing lasts, if those who try, say true,As long as heart can wish—and longer too.Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possessed,Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unblessed,60With mournful looks the blissful scenes surveyed,And wandered in the solitary shade.The Maker saw, took pity, and bestowedWoman, the last, the best reserve of God.A wife! ah gentle deities,[6]can he,65That has a wife, e'er feel adversity?Would men but follow what the sex advise,All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob wonHis father's blessing from an elder son:[7]70Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit lifeTo the wise conduct of a prudent wife:Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,Preserved the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian foe:[8]At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword75Was sheathed, and Israel lived to bless the Lord.These weighty motives, January the sageMaturely pondered in his riper age;And charmed with virtuous joys, and sober life,Would try that christian comfort, called a wife.80His friends were summoned on a point so nice,[9]To pass their judgment, and to give advice;But fixed before, and well resolved was he,As men that ask advice are wont to be.My friends, he cried (and cast a mournful look85Around the room, and sighed before he spoke):Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,And, worn with cares, am hast'ning to my end;How I have lived, alas! you know too well,In worldly follies, which I blush to tell;90But gracious heav'n has ope'd my eyes at last,With due regret I view my vices past,And, as the precept of the church decrees,Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.But since by counsel all things should be done,95And many heads are wiser still than one,Chuse you for me,[10]who best shall be contentWhen my desire's approved by your consent.One caution yet is needful to be told,To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:[11]100There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said,Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.My soul abhors the tasteless, dry embraceOf a stale virgin with a winter face:In that cold season love but treats his guest105With bean-straw, and tough forage at the bestNo crafty widows shall approach my bed;Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.As subtle clerks by many schools are made,Twice married dames are mistresses o' th' trade:110But young and tender virgins ruled with ease,We form like wax, and mould them as we please.Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss;'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss;Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse,115As flesh is frail, and who, God help me, knows?Then should I live in lewd adultery,And sink downright to Satan when I die.Or were I cursed with an unfruitful bed,The righteous end were lost for which I wed;120To raise up seed to bless the pow'rs above,And not for pleasure only, or for love.[12]Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a wife,When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life:Those that are blest with store of grace divine,125May live like saints, by heav'n's consent, and mine.[13]And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may,)My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart,And a new vigour springs in ev'ry part.130Think not my virtue lost, though time has shedThese rev'rend honours on my hoary head:Thus trees are crowned with blossoms white as snow,The vital sap then rising from below.[14]Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear135Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.Now, sirs, you know, to what I stand inclined,Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his mind.[15]He said; the rest in diff'rent parts divide;The knotty point was urged on either side:140Marriage, the theme on which they all declaimed,Some praised with wit, and some with reason blamed,Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,Each wond'rous positive, and wond'rous wise,There fell between his brothers a debate,145Placebo this was called, and Justin that.First to the knight Placebo thus begun,(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone,)Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears,As plainly proves, experience dwells with years;150Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice,To work by counsel when affairs are nice:But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest,}So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,}As still I hold your own advice the best.}155Sir, I have lived a courtier all my days,And studied men, their manners, and their ways;And have observed this useful maxim still,To let my betters always have their will.Nay, if my lord affirmed that black was white,160My word was this, "Your honour's in the right."Th' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise,As his mistaken patron to advise,Let Tirm not dare to vent his dang'rous thought,A noble fool was never in a fault.[16]165This, sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry wordIs weighed with judgment, and befits a lord:Your will is mine; and is, I will maintain,Pleasing to God, and should be so to man;At least your courage all the world must praise,170Who dare to wed in your declining days.Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,And let grey fools be indolently good,Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,With rev'rend dulness and grave impotence.[17]175Justin, who silent sat, and heard the man,Thus, with a philosophic frown, began:A heathen author,[18]of the first degree,Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we,Bids us be certain our concerns to trust180To those of gen'rous principles, and just.The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,To give your person, than your goods away:And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest,First learn your lady's qualities at least:185Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil;Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool,Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule.[19]'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find190In all this world, much less in woman-kind;But if her virtues prove the larger share,Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend,Who knows too well the state you thus commend;195And spite of all its praises must declare,All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.Heav'n knows, I shed full many a private tear,And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear:While all my friends applaud my blissful life,200And swear no mortal's happier in a wife;Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,The meekest creature that beholds the sun!But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain,And he that smarts has reason to complain.205Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:But at these years to venture on the fair![20]By him, who made the ocean, earth, and air,To please a wife, when her occasions call,210Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.And trust me, sir, the chastest you can chuseWill ask observance, and exact her dues.If what I speak my noble lord offend,My tedious sermon here is at an end.[21]215'Tis well, 'tis wond'rous well, the knight replies,Most worthy kinsman, faith you're mighty wise!We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the causeTo heath'nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.He spoke with scorn, and turned another way:—220What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?I say, quoth he, by heav'n the man's to blame,To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.At this the council rose, without delay;Each, in his own opinion, went his way;225With full consent, that, all disputes appeased,The knight should marry, when and where he pleased.Who now but January exults with joy?The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:Each nymph by turns his wav'ring mind possessed,230And reigned the short-lived tyrant of his breast;Whilst fancy pictured ev'ry lively part,And each bright image wandered o'er his heart.Thus, in some public forum fixed on high,A mirror shows the figures moving by;235Still one by one, in swift succession, passThe gliding shadows o'er the polished glass.This lady's charms the nicest could not blame,But vile suspicions had aspersed her fame;That was with sense, but not with virtue, blest:240And one had grace, that wanted all the rest.Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,He fixed at last upon the youthful May.Her faults he knew not, love is always blind,But ev'ry charm revolved within his mind:245Her tender age, her form divinely fair,Her easy motion, her attractive air,Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,Her moving softness, and majestic grace.[22]Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice,250And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:[23]Once more in haste he summoned ev'ry friend,And told them all, their pains were at an end.[24]Heav'n, that (said he) inspired me first to wed,Provides a consort worthy of my bed:255Let none oppose th' election, since on thisDepends my quiet, and my future bliss.[25]A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise;Chaste, though not rich; and though not nobly born,260Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.[26]Her will I wed, if gracious heav'n so please;To pass my age in sanctity and ease;And thank the pow'rs, I may possess aloneThe lovely prize, and share my bliss with none!265If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,My joys are full, my happiness is sure.One only doubt remains: Full oft, I've heard,By casuists grave, and deep divines averred;That 'tis too much for human race to know270The bliss of heav'n above, and earth below.Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great,To match the blessings of the future state,Those endless joys were ill exchanged for these;Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.[27]275This Justin heard, nor could his spleen controul,Touched to the quick, and tickled at the soul.Sir knight, he cried, if this be all your dread,Heav'n put it past your doubt, whene'er you wed;And to my fervent prayers so far consent,280That ere the rites are o'er, you may repent!Good heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial state approves,Since it chastises still what best it loves.Then be not, sir, abandoned to despair;}Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair,}285One, that may do your business to a hair;}Not ev'n in wish, your happiness delay,But prove the scourge to lash you on your way:Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go,Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow!290Provided still, you moderate your joy,Nor in your pleasures all your might employ;Let reason's rule your strong desires abate,Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,295Who solve these questions beyond all dispute;Consult with those, and be of better cheer;Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.So said, they rose, no more the work delayed;[28]The match was offered, the proposals made300The parents, you may think, would soon comply;The old have int'rest ever in their eye.Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind;When fortune favours, still the fair are kind.[29]I pass each previous settlement and deed,305Too long for me to write, or you to read;Nor will with quaint impertinence displayThe pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.[30]The time approached, to church the parties went,At once with carnal and devout intent:[31]310Forth came the priest, and bade th' obedient wifeLike Sarah or Rebecca lead her life:Then prayed the pow'rs the fruitful bed to bless,And made all sure enough with holiness.And now the palace-gates are opened wide,}315The guests appear in order, side by side,}And placed in state, the bridegroom and the bride.[32]}The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around,And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound;The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring,320These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string.Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre,Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire,Nor fierce Theodomas,[33]whose sprightly strainCould swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train.325Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace,(So poets sing) was present on the place:And lovely Venus, goddess of delight,}Shook high her flaming torch in open sight,}And danced around, and smiled on ev'ry knight:}330Pleased her best servant would his courage try,No less in wedlock, than in liberty.Full many an age old Hymen had not spiedSo kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.Ye bards! renowned among the tuneful throng335For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song,Think not your softest numbers can displayThe matchless glories of this blissful day;The joys are such, as far transcend your rage,When tender youth has wedded stooping age.340The beauteous dame sate smiling at the board,And darted am'rous glances at her lord.Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing,E'er looked so lovely on her Persian king:Bright as the rising sun, in summer's day,345And fresh and blooming as the month of May!The joyful knight surveyed her by his side,Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride;Still as his mind revolved with vast delightTh' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night,350Restless he sate, invoking ev'ry pow'rTo speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.Mean time the vig'rous dancers beat the ground,And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round.With od'rous spices they perfumed the place,355And mirth and pleasure shone in ev'ry face.Damian alone, of all the menial train,Sad in the midst of triumphs, sighed for pain;Damian alone, the knight's obsequious squire,Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire.360His lovely mistress all his soul possest,He looked, he languished, and could take no rest:His task performed, he sadly went his way,Fell on his bed, and loathed the light of day.There let him lie; till his relenting dame365Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.The weary sun, as learned poets write,Forsook th' horizon, and rolled down the light;While glitt'ring stars his absent beams supply,And night's dark mantle overspread the sky.370Then rose the guests; and as the time required,Each paid his thanks, and decently retired.The foe once gone, our knight prepared t' undress,So keen he was, and eager to possess:But first thought fit th' assistance to receive,375Which grave physicians scruple not to give;Satyrion near, with hot eringos stood,Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes,And critics learn'd explain to modern times.380By this the sheets were spread, the bride undressed,The room was sprinkled, and the bed was blessed.[34]What next ensued beseems not me to say;[35]'Tis sung, he laboured till the dawning day,Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light,}385As all were nothing he had done by night;}And sipped his cordial as he sat upright.}He kissed his balmy spouse with wanton play,And feebly sung a lusty roundelay;[36]Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;390For ev'ry labour must have rest at last.But anxious cares the pensive squire oppressed,Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast;The raging flames that in his bosom dwell,He wanted art to hide, and means to tell.395Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray,Composed a sonnet to the lovely May;Which writ and folded with the nicest art,He wrapped in silk, and laid upon his heart.When now the fourth revolving day was run,400('Twas June, and Cancer had received the sun)Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride,The good old knight moved slowly by her side.High mass was sung; they feasted in the hall;[37]The servants round stood ready at their call.405The squire alone was absent from the board,And much his sickness grieved his worthy lord,Who prayed his spouse, attended with her train,To visit Damian, and divert his pain.[38]Th' obliging dames obeyed with one consent;410They left the hall, and to his lodging went.The female tribe surround him as he lay,And close beside him sat the gentle May:Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drewA heaving sigh,[39]and cast a mournful view!415Then gave his bill, and bribed the pow'rs divine,With secret vows, to favour his design.[40]Who studies now but discontented May?On her soft couch uneasily she lay:The lumpish husband snored away the night,420Till coughs awaked him near the morning light.What then he did, I'll not presume to tell,Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or hell:Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay,Till the bell tolled, and all arose to pray.425Were it by forceful destiny decreed,Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed;Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,Shed its selectest influence from above;Whatever was the cause, the tender dame430Felt the first motions of an infant flame;Received th' impressions of the love-sick squire,And wasted in the soft infectious fire.Ye fair, draw near, let May's example moveYour gentle minds to pity those who love!435Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found,The poor adorer sure had hanged, or drowned:But she, your sex's mirrour, free from pride,Was much too meek to prove a homicide.[41]But to my tale: Some sages[42]have defined440Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of human-kind:Our knight (who studied much, we may suppose)Derived his high philosophy from those;For, like a prince, he bore the vast expenseOf lavish pomp, and proud magnificence:445His house was stately, his retinue gay,Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.His spacious garden made to yield to none,Was compassed round with walls of solid stone;Priapus could not half describe the grace450(Though god of gardens) of this charming place:A place to tire the rambling wits of FranceIn long descriptions, and exceed romance:Enough to shame the gentlest bard that singsOf painted meadows, and of purling springs.[43]455Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground,}A crystal fountain spread its streams around,}The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crowned:}About this spring, if ancient fame say true,The dapper elves their moonlight sports pursue:460Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen,[44]In circling dances gambolled on the green,While tuneful sprites a merry concert made,And airy music warbled through 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 boreThe silver key that locked the garden door.To this sweet place in summer's sultry heat,He used from noise and bus'ness to retreat;470And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May.For whate'er work was undischarged a-bed,The duteous knight in this fair garden sped.[45]But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure,475How short a space our worldly joys endure!O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous kind,But faithless still, and way'ring as the wind!O painted monster, formed mankind to cheat,With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit!480This rich, this am'rous, venerable knight,Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight,Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief,And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.[46]The rage of jealousy then seized his mind,485For much he feared the faith of woman-kind.[47]His wife, not suffered from his side to stray,}Was captive kept, he watched her night and day,}Abridged her pleasures, and confined her sway.}Full oft in tears did hapless May complain,490And sighed full oft; but sighed and wept in vain;She looked on Damian with a lover's eye;For oh, 'twas fixed, she must possess or die!Nor less impatience vexed her am'rous squire,Wild with delay, and burning with desire.495Watched as she was, yet could he not refrainBy secret writing to disclose his pain;The dame by signs revealed her kind intent,Till both were conscious what each other meant.Ah, gentle knight, what would thy eyes avail,500Though they could see as far as ships can sail?'Tis better, sure, when blind, deceived to be,Than be deluded when a man can see![48]Argus himself, so cautious and so wise,Was over-watched, for all his hundred eyes:505So many an honest husband may, 'tis known,Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own.The dame at last, by diligence and care,Procured the key her knight was wont to bear;She took the wards in wax before the fire,510And gave th' impression to the trusty squire.By means of this, some wonder shall appear,Which, in due place and season, you may hear.Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of yore,What sleight is that, which love will not explore?515And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly showThe feats true lovers, when they list, can do:Though watched and captive, yet in spite of all,They found the art of kissing[49]through a wall.But now no longer from our tale to stray;}520It happed that once upon a summer's day,}Our rev'rend knight was urged to am'rous play:}He raised his spouse ere matin-bell was rung,And thus his morning canticle he sung.Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes;525Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise!Hear how the doves with pensive notes complain,And in soft murmurs tell the trees their pain:[50]The winter's past; the clouds and tempests fly;The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.530Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming partMy bosom wounds, and captivates my heart;Come, and in mutual pleasures let's engage,Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made,535To haste before; the gentle squire obeyed:Secret and undescried he took his way,And, ambushed close, behind an arbour lay,It was not long ere January came,And, hand in hand with him his lovely dame;540Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,He turned the key, and made the gate secure.Here let us walk, he said, observed by none,Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:So may my soul have joy, as thou my wife545Art far the dearest solace of my life;And rather would I chuse, by heav'n above,To die this instant, than to lose thy love.[51]Reflect what truth was in my passion shown,}When, unendowed, I took thee for my own,}550And sought no treasure but thy heart alone.}Old as I am, and now deprived of sight,}Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true knight,}Nor age, nor blindness, rob me of delight.}Each other loss with patience I can bear,555The loss of thee is what I only fear.Consider then, my lady and my wife,The solid comforts of a virtuous life.As first, the love of Christ himself you gain;Next, your own honour undefiled maintain;560And lastly, that which sure your mind must move,[52]My whole estate shall gratify your love:Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's sunDisplays his light, by heav'n it shall be done.I seal the contract with a holy kiss,565And will perform, by this—my dear, and this.[53]Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy lord unkind;'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind.For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage,And joined to them my own unequal age,[54]570From thy dear side I have no pow'r to part,Such secret transports warm my melting heart.For who that once possessed those heav'nly charms,Could live one moment absent from thy arms?He ceased, and May with modest grace replied;575(Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cried;)Heav'n knows (with that a tender sigh she drew)I have a soul to save as well as you;And, what no less you to my charge commend,My dearest honour, will to death defend.580To you in holy church I gave my hand,And joined my heart in wedlock's sacred band:Yet, after this, if you distrust my care,Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear:First may the yawning earth her bosom rend,585And let me hence to hell alive descend;[55]Or die the death I dread no less than hell,Sewed in a sack, and plunged into a well,[56]Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace,Or once renounce the honour of my race.590For know, sir knight, of gentle blood I came,I loath a whore, and startle at the name.But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,And learn from thence their ladies to suspect:Else why these needless cautions, sir, to me?595These doubts and fears of female constancy!This chime still rings in ev'ry lady's ear,The only strain a wife must hope to hear.Thus while she spoke, a sidelong glance she castWhere Damian, kneeling, worshipped as she passed:[57]600She saw him watch the motions of her eye,And singled out a pear-tree planted nigh:[58]'Twas charged with fruit that made a goodly show,And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.Thither th' obsequious squire addressed his pace,605And climbing, in the summit took his place;The knight and lady walked beneath in view,Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.'Twas now the season when the glorious sunHis heav'nly progress through the Twins had run;610And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields:Clear was the day, and Phœbus rising bright,Had streaked the azure firmament with light;He pierced the glitt'ring clouds with golden streams,615And warmed the womb of earth with genial beams.It so befel, in that fair morning tide,}The fairies sported on the garden side,}And in the midst their monarch and his bride.}So featly tripped the light-foot ladies round,}620The knights so nimbly o'er the green-sward bound,}That scarce they bent the flow'rs, or touched the ground.[59]}The dances ended, all the fairy trainFor pinks and daisies searched the flow'ry plain;While on a bank reclined of rising green,625Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen:'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,The treachery you women use to man:A thousand authors have this truth made out,And sad experience leaves no room for doubt.630Heav'n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,A wiser monarch never saw the sun:All wealth, all honours, the supreme degreeOf earthly bliss, was well bestowed on thee!For sagely hast thou said: Of all mankind,635One only just, and righteous, hope to find:But should'st thou search the spacious world around,Yet one good woman is not to be found.Thus says the king who knew your wickedness;The son of Sirach[60]testifies no less.640So may some wildfire on your bodies fall,Or some devouring plague consume you all;As well you view the lecher in the tree,And well this honourable knight you see:But since he's blind and old (a helpless case)645His squire shall cuckold him before your face.Now by my own dread majesty I swear,And by this awful sceptre which I bear,No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunished long,That in my presence offers such a wrong.650I will this instant undeceive the knight,And, in the very act, restore his sight:And set the strumpet here in open view,}A warning to these ladies,[61]and to you,}And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.}655And will you so, replied the queen, indeed?}Now, by my mother's soul it is decreed,}She shall not want an answer at her need.}For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage,And all the sex in each succeeding age;660Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,And fortify their crimes with confidence.Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,Seen with both eyes, and pinioned on the place;All they shall need is to protest and swear,665Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;[62]Till their wise husbands, gulled by arts like these,Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.What though this sland'rous Jew, this Solomon,Called women fools, and knew full many a one;670The wiser wits of later times declare,How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are:Witness the martyrs, who resigned their breath,Serene in torments, unconcerned in death;[63]And witness next what Roman authors tell,675How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.But since the sacred leaves to all are free,And men interpret texts, why should not we?By this no more was meant, than to have shown,}That sov'reign goodness dwells in him alone}680Who only Is, and is but only One.[64]}But grant the worst; shall women then be weighedBy ev'ry word that Solomon has said?What though this king (as ancient story boasts)Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts;685He ceased at last his Maker to adore,And did as much for idol gods, or more.Beware what lavish praises you conferOn a rank lecher and idolater;Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ,690Did but for David's righteous sake permit;David, the monarch after heav'n's own mind,Who loved our sex, and honoured all our kind.Well, I'm a woman, and as such must speak;Silence would swell me, and my heart would break.695Know then, I scorn your dull authorities,Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.By heav'n, those authors are our sex's foes,Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose.Nay, quoth the king, dear madam, be not wroth:700I yield it up; but since I gave my oath,That this much injured knight again should see,It must be done—I am a king, said he,And one whose faith has ever sacred been.And so has mine, she said, I am a queen:705Her answer she shall have, I undertake;And thus an end of all dispute I make.Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord,It is not in our sex to break our word.[65]We leave them here in this heroic strain,710And to the knight our story turns again;Who in the garden, with his lovely May,Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay:This was his song; "Oh kind and constant be,Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."715Thus singing as he went, at last he drewBy easy steps, to where the pear-tree grew:The longing dame looked up, and spied her love,Full fairly perched among the boughs above.She stopped, and sighing: Oh, good gods, she cried,720What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side?Oh for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green;Help, for the love of heav'n's immortal queen;Help, dearest lord, and save at once the lifeOf thy poor infant, and thy longing wife![66]725Sore sighed the knight to hear his lady's cry,But could not climb, and had no servant nigh:Old as he was, and void of eye-sight too,What could, alas! a helpless husband do?And must I languish then, she said, and die,730Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?At least, kind sir, for charity's sweet sake,Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;Then from your back I might ascend the tree;Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.735With all my soul, he thus replied again,I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.With that, his back against the trunk he bent,She seized a twig, and up the tree she went.Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!740Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refined,Though blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind.What feats the lady in the tree might do,I pass as gambols never known to you;745But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore,Than in her life she ever felt before.In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring knightLooked out, and stood restored to sudden sight.Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,750As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent;But when he saw his bosom-wife so dressed,His rage was such as cannot be expressed:Not frantic mothers when their infants die,With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:755He cried, he roared, he stormed, he tore his hair;Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there!What ails my lord? the trembling dame replied;I thought your patience had been better tried;Is this your love, ungrateful, and unkind,760This my reward for having cured the blind?Why was I taught to make my husband see,By struggling with a man upon a tree?Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove?Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!765If this be struggling, by this holy light,'Tis struggling with a vengeance, quoth the knight;So heav'n preserve the sight it has restored,As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored;Whored by my slave—perfidious wretch! may hell770As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.Guard me, good angels! cried the gentle May,Pray heav'n this magic work the proper way!Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see,You ne'er had used these killing words to me:775So help me, fates, as 'tis no perfect sight,But some faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light.What I have said, quoth he, I must maintain,For by th' immortal pow'rs it seemed too plain.By all those pow'rs, some frenzy seized your mind,}780Replied the dame, are these the thanks I find?}Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!}She said; a rising sigh expressed her woe,The ready tears apace began to flow,And as they fell she wiped from either eye785The drops; for women, when they list, can cry.The knight was touched; and in his looks appearedSigns of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheered:Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er!Come down, and vex your tender heart no more;790Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said,For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made:Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,By heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw.Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind, she cried,795On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride.But till your sight's established, for awhile,Imperfect objects may your sense beguile.Thus when from sleep we first our eyes display,}The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,}800And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the day:}So just recov'ring from the shades of night,}Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light,}Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight.}Then, sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;805Heav'n knows how seldom things are what they seem!Consult your reason, and you soon shall find'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind:Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this,None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.810With that she leaped into her lord's embraceWith well-dissembled virtue in her face.He hugged her close, and kissed her o'er and o'er,Disturbed with doubts and jealousies no more:Both, pleased and blessed, renewed their mutual vows,815A fruitful wife and a believing spouse.Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make,Let all wise husbands hence example take;And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,To be so well deluded by their wives.[67]820