Thus while fhe fpoke, a fidelong glance fhe caft,
Where Damian, kneeling, worship'd as she past.
She faw him watch the motions of her eye,
And fingled out a pear-tree planted nigh:
'Twas charg'd with fruit, that made a goodly show,
And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.
Thither th' obfequious fquire addrefs'd his pace,
And climbing, in the fummit took his place ;
The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale purfue,
'Twas now the season when the glorious fun
His heav'nly progress thro' the twins had run ;
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields.
Clear was the day, and Phoebus rifing bright,
Had ftreak'd the azure firmament with light;
He pierc'd the glitt'ring clouds with golden ftreams, 615 And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.
It fo befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies fported on the garden's fide,
And, in the midft, their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the lightfoot ladies round,
The knights fo nimbly o'er the greenfword bound,
That scarce they bent the flow'rs, or touch'd the ground.
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daifies fearch'd the flow'ry plain ;
While on a bank reclin'd of rifing green,
Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women use to man:
A thoufand authors have this truth made out,
And fad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heav'n reft thy fpirit, noble Solomon,
A wifer monarch never faw the fun:
All wealth, all honours, the fupreme degree
Of earthly blifs, was well beftow'd on thee!
For fagely haft thou faid; of all mankind,
One only juft, and righteous, hope to find :
But should'ft thou fearch the spacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found..
Thus fays the king who knew your wickedness;
The fon of Sirach teftifies no lefs,
So may fome wildfire on your bodies fall,
Now by my own dread majefty I fwear,
Or fome devouring plague confume you all;
As well you view the leacher in the tree,
And well this honourable knight you fee:
But fince he's blind and old, (a helpless cafe)
His fquire fhall cuckold him before your face.
And by this awful fceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch fhall 'scape unpunish'd long,
That in my presence offers such a wrong.
I will this inftant undeceive the knight,
And, in the very act, reftore his fight:
And fet the ftrumpet here in open view,
A warning to these ladies, and to you,
And all the faithlefs fex, for ever to be true.
And will you fo, reply'd the queen, indeed?
Now, by my mother's foul, it is decreed,
She fhall not want an answer at her need.
For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage,
And all the fex in each fucceeding age;
Art fhall 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 pinion'd on the place;
All they shall need is to proteft, and fwear,
Breath a foft figh, and drop a tender tear;
'Till their wife husbands, gull'd by arts like thefe,
Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.
What tho' this fland'rous Jew, this Solomon,
Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one?
The wiser wits of later times declare,
How conftant, 'chafte, and virtuous, women are:
Witness the martyrs, who refign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
And witness next what Roman authors tell,
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.
But fince the facred leaves to all are free,
And men interpret texts, why fhou'd not we?
By this no more was meant, than to have shown,
That fov'reign goodness dwells in him alone.
Who only Is, aud is but only One,
But grant the worft; fhall women then be weigh'd
By ev'ry word that Solomon has faid?
What tho' this king (as ancient story boasts)
Built a fair temple to the lord of hofts;
He ceas'd at laft his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol gods, or more.
Beware what lavish praises you confer
On a rank leacher and idolater;
Whose reign indulgent God, fays holy writ,
Did but for David's righteous fake permit;
David, the monarch after heav'n's own mind,
Who lov'd our fex, and honour'd all our kind.
Well, I'm a woman, and as fuch must speak;
Silence would fwell me, and my heart would break.
Know then, I fcorn your dull authorities,
Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.
By heav'n, thofe authors are our fex's foes,
Whom, in our right, I muft, and will oppofe.
Nay (quoth the king) dear Madam, be not wroth;
I yield it up; but fince I give my oath,
That this much-injur'd knight again fhou'd fee;
It must be done-I am a king, faid he,
And one, whofe faith has ever facred been.
And fo has mine, (fhe faid)-I am a queen:
Her answer she fhall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all difpute I make :
Try when you lift; and you fhall find, my Lord,
It is not in our sex to break our word.
We leave them here in this heroic ftrain, And to the knight our story turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckow or the jay:
This was his fong; "Oh kind and conftant be,
"Conftant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."
Thus finging as he went, at laft he drew
By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew:
The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her love
Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above.
She ftopp'd, and fighing: Oh good gods, the cry'd,
What pangs, what fudden fhoots diftend my fide? 720
O for that tempting fruit, fo fresh, so green;
Help, for the love of heav'n's immortal queen!
Help, deareft lord, and fave at once the life
Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!
What cou'd, alas! a helpless husband do?
Sore figh'd the knight to hear his lady's cry, But cou'd not climb, and had no fervant nigh: Old as he was, and void of eye-fight too,
And muft I languifh then, she said, and die,
Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
At least, kind Sir, for charity's fweet fake,
Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;
Then from your back I might afcend the tree;
Do you but ftoop, and leave the reft to me.
With all my foul, he thus reply'd again,
I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain;
With that, his back against the trunk he bent,
She feiz'd a twig, and up the tree fhe went.
Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
'Tis truth I tell, tho' not in phrafe refin'd;
Tho' blunt my tale, yet honeft is my mind.
What feats the lady in the tree might do,
I país, as gambols never known to you;
But fure it was a merrier fit, fhe fwore,
Than in her life fhe ever felt before.
In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring knight
Look'd out, and stood reftor'd to sudden fight,
Strait on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
As one whofe thoughts were on his spouse intent; 750
But when he faw his bofom-wife fo drefs'd,
His rage was fuch as cannot be exprefs'd:
Not frantic mothers when their infants die,
With louder clamours rend the vaulted íky:
He cry'd, he roar'd, he ftorm'd, he tore his hair; 755 Death! hell! and furies! what doft thou do there?
What ails my lord? the trembling dame reply'd;
I thought your patience had been better try'd :
Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind,
This my reward, for having cur'd the blind?
Why was I taught to make my husband see,
By ftruggling with a man upon a tree?
Did I, for this, the pow'r of magic prove?
Unhappy wife, whofe crime was too much love!
If this be ftruggling, by this holy light,
'Tis ftruggling with a vengeance, (quoth the knight) So heav'n preserve the fight it has restor❜d,
As with these eyes I plainly faw thee whor'd;
Whor'd by my flave-perfidious wretch may hell
As furely feize thee, as I faw too well.
Guard me, good angels cry'd the gentle May,
Pray heav'n, this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you fee,
You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me:
So help me fates, as 'tis no perfect fight,
But fome faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light.
What I have faid, (quoth he) I must maintain, For by th' immortal pow'rs, it feem'd too plain By all those pow'rs, fome frenzy feiz'd your mind, (Reply'd the dame) are thefe the thanks I find? 780 Wretch that I am, that e'er I was fo kind!
She faid; a rifing figh exprefs'd her woe,
The ready tears apace began to flow,
And as they fell, the wip'd from either eye
The drops, (for women, when they lift, can cry.) 785 The knight was touch'd, and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he chear'd. Madam, 'tis paft, and my fhort anger o'er;
Come down, and vex your tender heart no more:
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