Слике страница

Counsel fhé may; and I will give thy Ear
The Knowledge first, of what is fit to hear.
What I tranfact with others, or alone,
Beware to learn; nor press too near the Throne.
· To whom the Goddess with the charming Eyes,
What haft thou faid, O Tyrant of the Skies,
When did I search the Secrets of thy Reign, [vain?
Though privilegʻd to know, but privileg'd in
But well thou dost, to hide from common Sight
Thy close Intrigues, too bad to bear the Light.
Nor doubt I, but the Silver-footed Dame,
Tripping from Sea, on such an Errand came,
Το grace her Issue, at the Grecians Coft,
And for one peevish Man destroy an Hott.

Towhom the Thund'rer made this stern Reply
My Houfhold Curse, my lawful Plague, the Spy
Of Jove's Designs, his other squinting Eye;
Why this vain prying, and for what avail?
Jove will be Master still, and Juno fail.
Shou'd thy suspicious Thoughts divine aright,
Thou but becom’ft more odious to my Sight,
For this Attempt : uneasie Life to me
Still watch’d, and importun'd, but worse for thee.

Curb that impetuous Tongue, before too late
The Gods behold, and tremble at thy Fate.
Pitying, but daring not, in thy Defence,
To lift a Hand against Omnipotence.

[Fear: This heard, th’Imperious Queen fate mute with Nor further durft incense the gloomy Thunderer. Silence was in the Court at this Rebuke:

[Look. Norcou'd the Gods abash'd, sustain their Sov'reigns

The Limping Smith observd the sadden' Feast, And hopping here and there (himself a Jeft) Put in his Word, that neither might offend; To Jove obsequious, yet his Mother's Friend. What end in Heav'n will be of civil War, If Gods of Pleasure will for Mortals jar? Such Discord but disturbs our Jovial Feast; One Grain of Bad, embitters all the best. Mother, tho' wise your self, my Counsel weigh; 'Tis much unsafe my Sire to difobey. Not only you provoke him to your Coft, But Mirth is marr'd, and the good Chear is lost.

Tempt not his heavy Hand; for he has Pow'r To throw you headlong, from his Heav'nly Tow'r.

[ocr errors]

But one submissive Word, which you let fall,
Will make him in good Humour with us All.

He said no more ; but crown'd a Bowl, unbid:
The laughing Nectar overlook'd the Lid:
Then put it to her Hand; and thus pursu'd,
This curfed Quarrel be no more renew'd.
Be, as becomes a Wife, obedient still;
Though griev'd, yet subje&t to her Husband's Will.
I wou'd not see you beaten ; yet afraid
Of Jove's superior Force, I dare not aid.
Too well I know him, since that hapless Hour
When I, and all the Gods employ'd our Pow'r
To break your Bonds: Me by the Heel he drew;
And o'er Heav'n's Battlements with Fury threw.
All Day I fell; My Flight at Morn begun,
And ended not but with the setting Sun.
Pitch'd on my Head, at length the Lemnian Ground
Receiv'd my batter'd Skull, the Sinthians heald

my Wound.
At Vulcan's homely Mirth his Mother smild,
And smiling took the Cup the Clown had fillid.


The Reconciler Bowl went round the Board,
Which empty'd, the rude Skinker still restor’d.
Loud Fits of Laughter seiz'd the Guests, to see
The limping God so deft at his new Ministry.
The Feast continu'd till declining Light:
They drank, they laugh’d, they loy’d, and then

'twas Night.
Nor wanted tuneful Harp, nor vocal Quire;
The Muses sung; Apollo touch'd the Lyre.
Drunken at last, and drowsie they depart,
Each to his House; Adorn'd with labour'd Art
Of the lame Architect: The thund'ring God
Ev'n he withdrew to Reft, and had his Load.
His swimming Head to needful Sleep apply'd ;
And Juno lay unheeded by his Side.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

HERE liv'd, as Authors tell, in

Days of Yore,
A Widow somewhat old, and very

poor : Deep in a Cell her Cottage lonely stood, Well thatch'd, and under Covert of a Wood.

This Dowager, on whom my Tale I found, Since last she laid her Husband in the Ground, A simple fober Life, in Patience led, And had but just enough to buy her Bread: But Huswifing the little Heav'n had lent, She duly paid a Groat for Quarter-Rent;


« ПретходнаНастави »