Imágenes de página
[ocr errors]

Fruitful fufpicions often bear 'em,

You feel them from the time you fear 'em.

Cuckoo Cuckoo! that echoed word,

Offends the ear of vulgar bird;

[ocr errors]

But those of finer tafte have found,
There's nothing in 't befide the found;
Preferment always waits on horns,
And houfhold peace the gift adorns
This way, or that, let factions tend,
The fpark is ftill the cuckold's friend ;
This way, or that, let madam roam,
Well pleas'd and quiet fhe comes home.
Now weigh the pleasure with the pain,
The plus and minus, lofs and gain,
And what La Fontaine laughing says,
Is ferious truth, in such a cafe ;

Who flights the evil, finds it least ;





"And who does nothing, does the best."

I never ftrove to rule the roast,

She ne'er refus'd to pledge my toast:

In vifits if we chanc'd to meet,
I feem'd obliging, she discreet;
We neither much carefs'd nor ftrove,


But good diffembling pass'd for love.

T. Whate'er of light our eye may know,

'Tis only light itself can show:

Whate'er of love our heart can feel,


"Tis mutual love alone can tell.

S. My pretty, amorous, foolish bird,

A moment's patience! in one word,


The Three kind Sisters broke the chain,
She dy'd, I mourn'd, and woo'd again.

T. Let me with juster grief deplore
My dear Columbo, now no more;
Let me with constant tears bewail
S. Your forrow does but spoil my tale.
My fifth, the prov'd a jealous wife,

[ocr errors]

Lord fhield us all from fuch a life!
'Twas doubt, complaint, reply, chit-chat,
'Twas this, to-day; to-morrow, that.
Sometimes, forfooth, upon the brook
I kept a Mifs; an honest Rook
Told it a Snipe, who told a Steer,
Who told it those who told it her.
One day a Linnet and a Lark
Had met me ftrolling in the dark;
The next a Woodcock and an Owl,
Quick-fighted, grave, and fober fowl,
Would on their corporal oath alledge,
I kiss'd a Hen behind the hedge.
Well; madam Turtle, to be brief,
(Repeating but renews our grief)
As once the watch'd me from a rail,
(Poor foul!) her footing chanc'd to fail,
And down the fell, and broke her hip;
The fever came, and then the pip:
Death did the only cure apply;

She was at quiet, fo was I.

T. Could Love unmov'd thefe changes view?

His forrows, as his joys, are true.

[blocks in formation]







S. My

S. My dearest Dove, one wife man says, Alluding to our present case,

"We're here to-day, and gone to-morrow :"

Then what avails fuperfluous forrow!

Another, full as wife as he,


Adds; that "a marry'd man may fee

"Two happy hours ;" and which are they?
The first and laft, perhaps you'll say.

'Tis true, when blithe fhe goes to bed,
And when she peaceably lies dead,
"Women 'twixt fheets are beft, 'tis faid,


[blocks in formation]

(Ah, Turtle! had fhe been like thee,


Sober, yet gentle; wife, yet free!)
But she was peevish, noisy, bold,
A witch ingrafted on a scold.
Jove in Pandora's box confin'd
A hundred ills, to vex mankind:
To vex one bird, in her bandore,
He had at least a hundred more.
And, foon as Time that veil withdrew,
The plagues o'er all the parish flew;
Her stock of borrow'd tears grew dry,
And native tempefts arm'd her eye;
Black clouds around her forehead hung,
And thunder rattled on her tongue.




We, young or old, or Cock or Hen,
All liv'd in Æolus's den;

The nearest her, the more accurst,
Ill far'd her friends, her husband worst.
But Jove amidst his anger spares,

Remarks our faults, but hears our prayers.
In fhort, the dy'd. Why then the 's dead,
Quoth I, and once again I 'll wed.
Would heaven, this mourning year were past!
One may have better luck at last.
Matters at worft are fure to mend,



The Devil's Wife was but a fiend.

T. Thy Tale has rais'd a Turtle's spleen,

Uxorious inmate! bird obfcene!

Dar'st thou defile thefe facred groves,
These filent feats of faithful loves?
Be gone, with flagging wings fit down
On fome old pent-house near the town ;
In brewers' ftables peck thy grain,
Then wash it down with puddled rain;
And hear thy dirty offspring fquall



[blocks in formation]


To Cities and to Courts repair, Flattery and Falfehood flourish there; There all thy wretched arts employ, Where riches triumph over joy ;

[blocks in formation]

Where Paffion does with Interest barter,
And Hymen holds by Mammon's charter;
Where Truth by point of Law is parry'd,
And Knaves and Prudes are fix times marry'd.

Written long after the T A LE.

O dearest Daughter of two dearest Friends,
To thee my Mufe this little Tale commends.
Loving and lov'd, regard thy future mate,
Long love his perfon, though deplore his fate;
Seem young when old in thy dear husband's arms,

For conftant Virtue has immortal charms.
And, when I lie low fepulchred in earth,
And the glad year returns thy day of birth,
Vouchsafe to fay, "Ere I could write or fpell,
"The bard, who from my cradle wish'd me well,
"Told me I should the prating Sparrow blaine,
"And bad me imitate the Turtle's flame."



Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, daughter of Edward earl of Oxford, and afterwards Duchefs of Portland.


« AnteriorContinuar »