Part 4

As when with slumb'rous weight opprest, Some wealthy miser sinks to rest, Where felons eye the glitt'ring prey, And steal his hoard of joys away: He, borne where golden INDUS streams, Of pearl and quarry'd di'mond dreams, Like MIDAS, turns the glebe to ore, And stands all wrapt amidst his store; But wakens, naked, and despoil'd Of that for which his years had toil'd.

So far'd the NYMPH, her treasure flown, And turn'd, like NIOBE, to stone; Within, without, obscure and void, She felt all ravag'd, all destroy'd. And, O! thou curs'd insidious coast, Are these the blessings thou canst boast? These, VIRTUE! these the joys they find, Who leave thy heav'n-topt hills behind! Shade me, ye pines, ye caverns hide, Ye mountains cover me! she cry'd.

Her trumpet SLANDER rais'd on high, And told the tidings to the sky; CONTEMPT discharg'd a living dart, A side-long viper to her heart; REPROACH breath'd poisons o'er her face, And soil'd, and blasted ev'ry grace; Officious SHAME, her handmaid new, Still turn'd the mirror to her view; While those in crimes the deepest dy'd, Approach'd to whiten at her side; And ev'ry lewd insulting dame Upon her folly rose to fame.

What should she do; attempt once more To gain the late-deserted shore? So trusting, back the mourner flew, As fast the train of fiends pursue.

Again the farther shore's attain'd, Again the land of VIRTUE gain'd; But ECHO gathers in the wind, And shows her instant foes behind. Amaz'd! with headlong speed she tends, Where late she left an host of friends; Alas! those shrinking friends decline, Nor longer own that form divine; With fear they mark the following cry, And from the lonely trembler fly; Or backward drive her on the coast Where PEACE was wreck'd, and HONOUR lost.

From earth thus hoping aid in vain; To HEAV'N, not daring to complain; No truce, by hostile CLAMOUR giv'n, And from the face of FRIENDSHIP driv'n; The NYMPH sunk prostrate on the ground, With all her weight of woes around.

Enthron'd within a circling sky, Upon a mount, o'er mountains high, All radiant sat, as in a shrine, VIRTUE, first effluence divine; Far, far above the scenes of woe, That shut this cloud-wrapt world below: Superior goddess! essence bright! Beauty of uncreated light, Whom should mortality survey, As doom'd upon a certain day; The breath of frailty must expire, The world dissolve in living fire; The gems of heav'n and solar flame, Be quench'd by her eternal beam, And nature, quick'ning in her eye, To raise a new-born phoenix, die.

Hence, unreveal'd to mortal view, A veil around her form she threw, Which three sad sisters of the shade, PAIN, CARE, and MELANCHOLY, made.

Thro' this her all-inquiring eye, Attentive from her station high, Beheld, abandon'd to despair, The ruins of her fav'rite fair; And with a voice, whose awful sound Appall'd the guilty world around, Bid the tumultuous winds be still; To numbers bow'd each list'ning hill; Uncurl'd the surging of the main, And smooth'd the thorny bed of pain; The golden harp of heav'n she strung, And thus the tuneful goddess sung:

"Lovely PENITENT, arise, Come, and claim thy kindred skies; Come, thy sister angels say, Thou hast wept thy stains away.

"Let experience now decide, 'Twixt the good and evil, try'd, In the smooth enchanted ground, Say, unfold the treasures found.

"Structures, rais'd by morning dreams, Sands that trip the flitting streams, Down that anchors on the air, Clouds that paint their changes there.

"Seas that smoothly dimpling lie, While the storm impends on high, Showing in an obvious glass, Joys that in possession pass.

"Transient, fickle, light, and gay, Flatt'ring, only to betray; What, alas! can life contain? Life, like all its circles, vain.

"Will the STORK, intending rest, On the billow build her nest? Will the BEE demand his store From the bleak and bladeless shore!

"MAN alone, intent to stray, Ever turns from WISDOM'S way; Lays up wealth in foreign land, Sows the sea, and plows the sand.

"Soon this elemental mass, Soon th' encumb'ring world shall pass; Form be wrapt in wasting fire, TIME be spent, and LIFE expire.

"Then, ye boasted works of men! Where is your asylum then? Sons of PLEASURE, sons of CARE, Tell me, mortals, tell me where?

"Gone, like traces on the deep, Like a sceptre grasp'd in sleep; Dews exhal'd from morning glades, Melting snows, and gliding shades.

"Pass the world, and what's behind? Virtue's gold, by fire refin'd; From an universe deprav'd, From the wreck of nature sav'd.

"Like the life-supporting grain, Fruit of patience and of pain, On the swain's autumnal day, Winnow'd from the chaff away.

"Little TREMBLER, fear no more, Thou hast plenteous crops in store; Seeds, by genial sorrows sown, More than all thy scorners own.

"What, tho' hostile earth despise, Heaven beholds with gentler eyes; Heav'n thy friendless steps shall guide, Cheer thy hours, and guard thy side.

"When the fatal trump shall sound, When th' immortals pour around, Heav'n shall thy return attest, Hail'd by myriads of the bless'd.

"Little native of the skies, Lovely PENITENT, arise, Calm thy bosom, clear thy brow, VIRTUE is thy sister now.

"More delightful are my woes Than the rapture PLEASURE knows; Richer far the weeds I bring Than the robes that grace a king.

"On my wars of shortest date, Crowns of endless triumph wait; On my cares a period bless'd, On my toils, eternal rest.

"Come, with VIRTUE at thy side, Come, be ev'ry bar defy'd, Till we gain our native shore; Sister, come, and turn no more."

FABLE XVI.

LOVE AND VANITY.

The breezy morning breath'd perfume, The wak'ning flow'rs unveil'd their bloom; Up with the sun, from short repose, Gay HEALTH, and lusty LABOUR, rose; The milk-maid carol'd at her pail, And shepherds whistled o'er the dale; When LOVE, who led a rural life, Remote from bustle, state, and strife, Forth from his thatch-roof'd cottage stray'd, And stroll'd along the dewy glade.

A nymph, who lightly tripp'd it by, To quick attention turn'd his eye; He mark'd the gesture of the fair, Her self-sufficient grace and air; Her steps that mincing meant to please, Her study'd negligence and ease; And curious to inquire what meant This thing of prettiness and paint, Approaching spoke, and bow'd observant: The lady, slightly--"Sir, your servant."

'Such beauty in so rude a place! Fair one, you do the country grace; At court, no doubt, the public care, But LOVE has small acquaintance there.'

"Yes, sir," reply'd the flutt'ring dame, "This form confesses whence it came; But dear VARIETY, you know, Can make us pride and pomp forego; My name is VANITY: I sway The utmost islands of the sea; Within my court all honour centers, I raise the meanest soul that enters, Endow with latent gifts and graces, And model fools for posts and places.

"As VANITY appoints at pleasure, The world receives its weight and measure; Hence all the grand concerns of life, Joys, cares, plagues, passion, peace, and strife.

"Reflect how far my pow'r prevails, When I step in where NATURE fails: And ev'ry breach of sense repairing, Am bounteous still, where heav'n is sparing.

"But chief, in all their arts and airs, Their playing, painting, pouts, and pray'rs, Their various habits and complexions, Fits, frolics, foibles, and perfections, Their robing, curling, and adorning, From noon to night, from night to morning, From six to sixty, sick or sound, I rule the female world around."--

'Hold there a moment,' CUPID cry'd, 'Nor boast dominion quite so wide; Was there no province to invade, But that by love and meekness sway'd; All other empire I resign, But be the sphere of beauty mine.

'For in the downy lawn of rest, That opens on a woman's breast, Attended by my peaceful train, I choose to live, and choose to reign.

'Far-sighted FAITH I bring along, And TRUTH, above an army strong, And CHASTITY, of icy mould, Within the burning tropics cold; And LOWLINESS, to whose mild brow The pow'r and pride of nations bow; And MODESTY, with down-cast eye, That lends the morn her virgin dye; And INNOCENCE, array'd in light, And HONOUR, as a tow'r upright; With sweetly winning graces, more Than poets ever dreamt of yore; In unaffected conduct free, All smiling sisters, three times three; And rosy PEACE, the cherub bless'd, That nightly sings us all to rest.

'Hence, from the bud of NATURE'S prime, From the first step of infant time, Woman, the world's appointed light, Has skirted ev'ry shade with white; Has stood for imitation high, To ev'ry heart, and ev'ry eye; From ancient deeds of fair renown, Has brought her bright memorials down; To time affix'd perpetual youth, And form'd each tale of love and truth.

'Upon a new PROMETHEAN plan, She moulds the essence of a man, Tempers his mass, his genius fires, And as a better soul inspires.

'The rude she softens, warms the cold, Exalts the meek, and checks the bold; Calls SLOTH from his supine repose, Within the coward's bosom glows; Of pride unplumes the lofty crest, Bids bashful merit stand confess'd; And like coarse metal from the mines, Collects, irradiates, and refines; The gentle science she imparts, All manners smooths, informs all hearts; From her sweet influence are felt, Passions that please, and thoughts that melt. To stormy rage she bids controul, And sinks serenely on the soul; Softens DUCALION'S flinty race, And tunes the warring world to peace.

'Thus arm'd to all that's light and vain, And freed from thy fantastic chain, She fills the sphere, by heav'n assign'd, And, rul'd by me, o'er-rules mankind.'

He spoke.--The nymph impatient stood, And, laughing, thus her speech renew'd:

"And pray, sir, may I be so bold, To hope your pretty tale is told; And next demand without a cavil, What new UTOPIA do you travel? Upon my word, these high-flown fancies Shew depth of learning in romances. Why, what unfashion'd stuff you tell us, Of buckram dames, and tiptoe fellows! Go, child, and when you're grown maturer, You'll shoot your next opinion surer.

"O, such a pretty knack at painting, And all for soft'ning, and for sainting! Guess now, who can, a single feature, Thro' the whole piece of female nature: Then, mark! my looser hand may fit The lines too coarse for love to hit.

"'Tis said, that woman prone to changing, Thro' all the rounds of folly ranging, On life's uncertain ocean riding, No reason, rule, nor rudder guiding, Is like the comet's wand'ring light, Eccentric, ominous, and bright; Tractless and shifting as the wind, A sea whose fathom none can find; A moon, still changing and revolving, A riddle, past all human solving; A bliss, a plague, a heav'n, a hell, A----something, that no man can tell.

"Now learn a secret from a friend, But keep your counsel and attend:

"Tho' in their tempers thought so distant, Nor with their sex, nor selves consistent, 'Tis but the diff'rence of a name, And ev'ry woman is the same. For as the world, however vary'd, And thro' unnumber'd changes carry'd, Of elemental modes and forms, Clouds, meteors, colours, calms, and storms; Tho' in a thousand suits array'd, Is of one subject matter made; So, sir, a woman's constitution, The world's enigma, finds solution. And let her form be what you will, I am the subject essence still.

"With the first spark of female sense, The speck of being, I commence; Within the womb make fresh advances, And dictate future qualms and fancies; Thence in the growing form expand, With childhood travel hand in hand, And give a taste of all their joys, In gewgaws, rattles, pomp, and noise.

"And now, familiar and unaw'd, I send the flutt'ring soul abroad; Prais'd for her shape, her air, her mien, The little goddess, and the queen, Takes at her infant shrine oblation, And drinks sweet draughts of adulation.

"Now, blooming, tall, erect, and fair, To dress becomes her darling care; The realms of beauty then I bound, I swell the hoop's enchanted round; Shrink in the waist's descending size, Heav'd in the snowy bosom rise, High on the floating lappet sail, Or curl'd in tresses kiss the gale. Then to her glass I lead the fair, And shew the lovely idol there, Where, struck as by divine emotion, She bows with most sincere devotion; And numb'ring ev'ry beauty o'er, In secret bids the world adore.

"Then all for parking and parading, Coqueting, dancing, masquerading; For balls, plays, courts, and crowds, what passion! And churches, sometimes, if the fashion: For woman's sense of right and wrong Is rul'd by the almighty throng; Still turns to each meander tame, And swims the straw of ev'ry stream. Her soul intrinsic worth rejects, Accomplish'd only in defects, Such excellence is her ambition, Folly her wisest acquisition; And ev'n from pity and disdain, She'll cull some reason to be vain.

"Thus, sir, from ev'ry form and feature, The wealth and wants of female nature, And ev'n from vice, which you'd admire, I gather fuel to my fire, And on the very base of shame, Erect my monument of fame.

"Let me another truth attempt, Of which your godship has not dreamt: Those shining virtues which you muster, Whence think you they derive their lustre? From native honour and devotion! O yes! a mighty likely notion! Trust me, from titled dames to spinners, 'Tis I make saints, whoe'er make sinners; 'Tis I instruct them to withdraw, And hold presumptuous man in awe; For female worth as I inspire, In just degrees, still mounts the higher, And VIRTUE so extremely nice, Demands long toil and mighty price; Like SAMPSON'S pillars, fix'd elate, I bear the sex's tott'ring state; Sap these, and in a moment's space, Down sinks the fabric to its base.

"Alike from titles, and from toys, I spring, the fount of female joys; In ev'ry widow, wife, and miss, The sole artificer of bliss. For them each tropic I explore; I cleave the sand of ev'ry shore; To them uniting INDIA'S sail, SABÆA breathes her farthest gale; For them the bullion I refine, Dig sense and virtue from the mine; And from the bowels of invention, Spin out the various arts you mention.

"Nor bliss alone my pow'rs bestow, They hold the sov'reign balm of woe; Beyond the stoic's boasted art, I soothe the heavings of the heart; To pain give splendor, and relief, And gild the pallid face of grief.

"Alike the palace and the plain, Admit the glories of my reign; Thro' ev'ry age, in ev'ry nation, Taste, talents, tempers, state, and station, Whate'er a woman says, I say; Whate'er a woman spends, I pay; Alike I fill and empty bags, Flutter in finery and rags; With light coquets thro' folly range, And with the prude disdain to change.

"And now, you'd think, 'twixt you and I, That things were ripe for a reply-- But soft--and while I'm in the mood, Kindly permit me to conclude; Their utmost mazes to unravel, And touch the farthest step they travel:

"When ev'ry pleasure's run a-ground, And folly tir'd thro' many a round; The nymph, conceiving discontent hence, May ripen to an hour's repentance, And vapours shed in pious moisture, Dismiss her to a church or cloister; Then on I lead her, with devotion Conspicuous in her dress and motion; Inspire the heav'nly-breathing air, Roll up the lucid eye in pray'r, Soften the voice, and in the face Look melting harmony and grace.

"Thus far extends my friendly pow'r, Nor quits her in her latest hour; The couch of decent pain I spread, In form recline her languid head; Her thoughts I methodize in death, And part not with her parting breath; Then do I set, in order bright, A length of fun'ral pomp to sight; The glitt'ring tapers, and attire, The plumes that whiten o'er her bier; And last, presenting to her eye Angelic fineries on high, To scenes of painted bliss I waft her, And form the heav'n she hopes hereafter."

'In truth,' rejoin'd LOVE'S gentle god, 'You've gone a tedious length of road; And, strange! in all the toilsome way No house of kind refreshment lay; No nymph, whose virtues might have tempted To hold her from her sex exempted.'

"For one, we'll never quarrel, man, Take her, and keep her, if you can; And pleas'd I yield to your petition, Since every fair, by such permission, Will hold herself the one selected, And so my system stands protected."

'O deaf to VIRTUE, deaf to GLORY, To truths divinely vouch'd in story!' The godhead, in his zeal return'd, And kindling at her malice burn'd. Then sweetly rais'd his voice, and told Of heav'nly nymphs, rever'd of old; HYPSIPYLE, who sav'd her sire; And PORTIA'S love, approv'd by fire; Alike PENELOPE was quoted, Nor laurel'd DAPHNE pass'd unnoted, Nor LAODAMIA'S fatal garter, Nor fam'd LUCRETIA, honour's martyr, ALCESTE'S voluntary steel, And CATHERINE smiling on the wheel.

But who can hope to plant conviction, Where cavil grows on contradiction! Some she evades, or disavows, Demurs to all, and none allows; A kind of ancient things, call'd fables! And thus the goddess turn'd the tables.

Now both in argument grew high, And choler flash'd from either eye; Nor wonder each refus'd to yield The conquest of so fair a field.

When happily arriv'd in view A goddess, whom our grandames knew, Of aspect grave, and sober gait, Majestic, awful, and sedate, As heav'n's autumnal eve serene, Where not a cloud o'ercasts the scene, Once PRUDENCE call'd, a matron fam'd, And in old ROME CORNELIA nam'd. Quick, at a venture, both agree To leave their strife to her decree.

And now by each the facts were stated, In form and manner as related; The case was short--They crav'd opinion, Which held o'er females chief dominion? When thus the goddess, answering mild, First shook her gracious head, and smil'd:

"Alas! how willing to comply, Yet how unfit a judge am I! In times of golden date, 'tis true, I shar'd the fickle sex with you; But from their presence long precluded, Or held as one whose form intruded, Full fifty annual suns can tell, Prudence has bid the sex farewell."

In this dilemma, what to do, Or who to think of, neither knew; For both, still bias'd in opinion, And arrogant of sole dominion, Were forc'd to hold the case compounded, Or leave the quarrel where they found it.

When in the nick, a rural fair, Of inexperienc'd gait and air, Who ne'er had cross'd the neighb'ring lake, Nor seen the world beyond a wake; With cambric coif, and kerchief clean, Trip'd lightly by them o'er the green.

'Now, now!' cry'd LOVE'S triumphant child, And at approaching conquest smil'd; 'If VANITY will once be guided, Our diff'rence soon may be decided: Behold you wench, a fit occasion, To try your force of gay persuasion.-- Go you, while I retire aloof, Go, put those boasted pow'rs to proof; And if your prevalence of art Transcends my yet unerring dart, I give the fav'rite contest o'er, And ne'er will boast my empire more.'

At once, so said and so consented, And well our goddess seem'd contented, Nor pausing, made a moment's stand, But tript, and took the girl in hand.

Meanwhile the GODHEAD, unalarm'd, As one to each occasion arm'd, Forth from his quiver cull'd a dart, That erst had wounded many a heart; Then bending, drew it to the head, The bowstring twang'd, the arrow fled, And to her secret soul address'd, Transfix'd the whiteness of her breast.

But here the DAME, whose guardian care Had to a moment watch'd the fair, At once her pocket mirror drew, And held the wonder full in view; As quickly, rang'd in order bright, A thousand beauties rush'd to sight, A world of charms, till now unknown, A world revealed to her alone; Enraptur'd stands the love-sick maid, Suspended o'er the darling shade; Here only fixes to admire, And centres every fond desire.

_FINIS._

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End of Project Gutenberg's Moores Fables for the Female Sex, by Edward Moore