Volume I Part 14 (1/2)

If you hope I'll be kind, you must tell me what's due In George's-lane for you, ere I'll buckle to.

CHARIOT

Why, how now, Doll Diamond, you're very alert; Is it your French breeding has made you so pert?

Because I was civil, here's a stir with a pox: Who is it that values your ---- or your fox?

Sure 'tis to her honour, he ever should bed His b.l.o.o.d.y red hand to her b.l.o.o.d.y red head.

You're proud of your gilding; but I tell you each nail Is only just tinged with a rub at her tail; And although it may pa.s.s for gold on a ninny, Sure we know a Bath s.h.i.+lling soon from a guinea.

Nay, her foretop's a cheat; each morn she does black it, Yet, ere it be night, it's the same with her placket.

I'll ne'er be run down any more with your cant; Your velvet was wore before in a mant, On the back of her mother; but now 'tis much duller,-- The fire she carries hath changed its colour.

Those creatures that draw me you never would mind, If you'd but look on your own Pharaoh's lean kine; They're taken for spectres, they're so meagre and spare, Drawn d.a.m.nably low by your sorrel mare.

We know how your lady was on you befriended; You're not to be paid for 'till the lawsuit is ended: But her bond it is good, he need not to doubt; She is two or three years above being out.

Could my Knight be advised, he should ne'er spend his vigour On one he can't hope of e'er making _bigger_.

[Footnote 1: Mrs. Dorothy Stopford, afterwards Countess of Meath, of whom Swift says, in his Journal to Stella, Feb. 23, 1711-12, ”Countess Doll of Meath is such an owl, that, wherever I visit, people are asking me, whether I know such an Irish lady, and her figure and her foppery.”

See, _post_, the Poem ent.i.tled, ”d.i.c.ky and Dolly.”--_W. E. B._]

TO LORD HARLEY, ON HIS MARRIAGE[1]

OCTOBER 31, 1713

Among the numbers who employ Their tongues and pens to give you joy, Dear Harley! generous youth, admit What friends.h.i.+p dictates more than wit.

Forgive me, when I fondly thought (By frequent observations taught) A spirit so inform'd as yours Could never prosper in amours.

The G.o.d of Wit, and Light, and Arts, With all acquired and natural parts, Whose harp could savage beasts enchant, Was an unfortunate gallant.

Had Bacchus after Daphne reel'd, The nymph had soon been brought to yield; Or, had embroider'd Mars pursued, The nymph would ne'er have been a prude.

Ten thousand footsteps, full in view, Mark out the way where Daphne[2] flew; For such is all the s.e.x's flight, They fly from learning, wit, and light; They fly, and none can overtake But some gay c.o.xcomb, or a rake.

How then, dear Harley, could I guess That you should meet, in love, success?

For, if those ancient tales be true, Phoebus was beautiful as you; Yet Daphne never slack'd her pace, For wit and learning spoil'd his face.

And since the same resemblance held In gifts wherein you both excell'd, I fancied every nymph would run From you, as from Latona's son.

Then where, said I, shall Harley find A virgin of superior mind, With wit and virtue to discover, And pay the merit of her lover?

This character shall Ca'endish claim, Born to retrieve her s.e.x's fame.

The chief among the glittering crowd, Of t.i.tles, birth, and fortune proud, (As fools are insolent and vain) Madly aspired to wear her chain; But Pallas, guardian of the maid, Descending to her charge's aid, Held out Medusa's snaky locks, Which stupified them all to stocks.

The nymph with indignation view'd The dull, the noisy, and the lewd; For Pallas, with celestial light, Had purified her mortal sight; Show'd her the virtues all combined, Fresh blooming, in young Harley's mind.

Terrestrial nymphs, by formal arts, Display their various nets for hearts: Their looks are all by method set, When to be prude, and when coquette; Yet, wanting skill and power to chuse, Their only pride is to refuse.

But, when a G.o.ddess would bestow Her love on some bright youth below, Round all the earth she casts her eyes; And then, descending from the skies, Makes choice of him she fancies best, And bids the ravish'd youth be bless'd.

Thus the bright empress of the morn[3]

Chose for her spouse a mortal born: The G.o.ddess made advances first; Else what aspiring hero durst?

Though, like a virgin of fifteen, She blushes when by mortals seen; Still blushes, and with speed retires, When Sol pursues her with his fires.

Diana thus, Heaven's chastest queen Struck with Endymion's graceful mien Down from her silver chariot came, And to the shepherd own'd her flame.

Thus Ca'endish, as Aurora bright, And chaster than the Queen of Night Descended from her sphere to find A mortal of superior kind.

[Footnote 1: Lord Harley, only son of the first Earl of Oxford, married Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holles, only daughter of John, Duke of Newcastle. He took no part in public affairs, but delighted in the Society of the poets and men of letters of his day, especially Pope and Swift.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Pursued in vain by Apollo, and changed by him into a laurel tree. Ovid, ”Metam.,” i, 452; ”Heroides,” xv, 25.--_W. E. B._]