Like echo, from her vocal hold,
Return'd in music twenty-fold,
Their union, firm and undecay'd,
Nor time can shake, nor pow'r invade;
But, as the stem and scion stand
Ingrafted by a skilful hand,

They check the tempest's wint'ry ragé,
And bloom and strengthen into age.
A thousand amities unknown,
And pow'rs perceiv'd by love alone,
Endearing looks and chaste desire,
Fan and support the mutual fire;
Whose flame, perpetual as refin'd,
Is fed by an immortal mind.

Nor yet the nuptial sanction ends;
Like Nile it opens, and descends;
Which, by apparent windings led,
We trace to its celestial head.
The fire, first springing from above,
Becomes the source of life and love,
And gives his filial heir to flow
In fondness down on sons below:
Thus, roll'd in one continued tide,
To time's extremest verge they glide;
While kindred streams on either hand,
Branch forth in blessings o'er the land.
Thee, wretch! no lisping babe shall name,
No late-returning brother claim,
No kinsman on thy sight rejoice,
No sister greet thy ent'ring voice;
With partial eyes no parent see,
And bless their years restor'd in thee.
In age rejected or declin'd,
An alien e'en among thy kind,
The partner of thy scorn'd embrace
Shall play the wanton in thy face;
Each spark unplume thy little pride,
All friendship fly thy faithless side.
Thy name shall like thy carcass rot,
In sickness spurn'd, in death forgot.
All-giving Pow'r! great Source of life!
Oh hear the parent, hear the wife!
That life thou lendest from above,
Though little, make it large in love;
O bid my feeling heart expand
To ev'ry claim, on ev'ry hand;
To those from whom my days I drew,
To these in whom those days renew,
To all my kin, however wide,
In cordial warmth as blood allied,
To friends with steely fetters twin'd,
And to the cruel, not unkind!

But chief, the lord of my desire, My life, myself, my soul, my sire, Friends, children, all that wish can claim, Chaste passion clasp, and rapture nameO spare him, spare him, gracious Pow'r! O give him to my latest hour! Let me my length of life employ To give my soul's enjoyment joy. His love let mutual love excite, Turn all my cares to his delight; And ev'ry needless blessing spare, Wherein my darling wants a share. VOL. v. Nos. 71 & 72.

While swelling with the darling theme, Her accents pour'd an endless stream, The well-known wings a sound impart, That reach'd her ear, and touch'd her heart; Quick dropp'd the music of her tongue, And forth with eager joy she sprung. As swift her ent'ring consort flew, And plum'd, and kindled at the view; Their wings, their souls, embracing meet, Their hearts with answering measure beat; Half lost in secret sweets, and bless'd With raptures felt, but ne'er express'd.

Straight to her humble roof she led
The partner of her spotless bed;
Her young, a flutt'ring pair, arise,
Their welcome sparkling in their eyes;
Transported, to their sire they bound,
And hang with speechless action round:
In pleasure wrapt the parents stand,
And see their little wings expand,
The sire his life-sustaining prize
To each expecting bill applies,
There fondly pours the wheaten spoil,
With transport giv'n, though won with toil;
While all-collected at the sight,
And silent through supreme delight,
The fair high heaven of bliss beguiles,
And on her lord and infants smiles.

The Sparrow, whose attention hung
Upon the Dove's enchanting tongue,
Of all his little slights disarm'd,
And from himself by virtue charm'd,
When now he saw what only seem'd
A fact, so late a fable deem'd,
His soul to envy he resign'd,
His hours of folly to the wind;
In secret wish a Turtle too,
And, sighing to himself, withdrew.

§ 134. FABLE IV. The Female Seducers. "TIS said of widow, maid, and wife, That honor is a woman's life;

Unhappy sex! who only claim
A being in the breath of fame;
Which, tainted, not the quick'ning gales
That sweep Sabæa's spicy vales,
Nor all the healing sweets restore,
That breathe along Arabia's shore.
The traveller, if he chance to stray,
May turn uncensur'd to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure!
But woman no redemption knows,
The wounds of honor never close.
Though distant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor skill'd on life's tempestuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the course decreed,
In vain she seeks the friendless shore;
Her swifter folly flies before!
The circling ports against her close,
And shut the wand'rer from repose;
Till, by conflicting waves oppress'd,
Her found'ring pinnace sinks to rest.
Are there no offerings to atone
For but a single error ?-None.
Though woman is avow'd, of old,
Nay daughter of celestial mould,
Her temp'ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clay,
We challenge from the mortal dame
The strength angelic natures claim;
Nay more for sacred stories tell,
That e'en immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming sphere
Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying elements endued,
Was form'd to fall, and rise renew'd.

The stars no fix'd duration know;
Wide oceans ebb, again to flow;
The moon repletes her waning face,
All beauteous from her late disgrace;
And suns, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rise with new-born light.

In vain may death and time subdue,
While nature mints her race anew;
And holds some vital spark apart,
Like virtue, hid in ev'ry heart.
'Tis hence reviving warmth is seen,
"To clothe a naked world in green.
No longer barr'd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold;
Again each insect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the spring;
Again from ev'ry latent root
The latent stem and tendril shoot,
Exhaling incense to the skies,
Again to perish, and to rise.

And must weak woman then disown
The change to which a world is prone?
In one meridian brightness shine,
And ne'er like ev'ning suns decline?
Resolv'd and firm alone? Is this
What we demand of woman ?—Yes.

But should the spark of vestal fire In some unguarded hour expire;

Or should the nightly thief invade
Hesperia's chaste and sacred shade,
Of all the blooming spoil possess'd,
The dragon Honor charm'd to rest,
Shall virtue's flame no more return?
No more with virgin splendor burn?
No more the ravag'd garden blow
With spring's succeeding blossom ?—No.
Pity may mourn, but not restore;
And woman falls-to rise no more!
Within this sublunary sphere
A country lies-no matter where;
The clime may readily be found
By all who tread poetic ground:
A stream call'd Life, across it glides,
And equally the land divides;
And here, of vice the province lies;
And there the hills of virtue rise.

Upon a mountain's airy stand,
Whose summit look'd to either land,
An ancient pair their dwelling chose,
As well for prospect as repose;
For mutual faith they long were fam'd,
And Temp'rance and Religion nam'd.
A num'rous progeny divine
Confess'd the honors of their line,
But in a little daughter fair

Was centred more than half their care,
For Heaven to gratulate her birth,
Gave signs of future joy to earth;
White was the robe this infant wore,
And Chastity the name she bore.

As now the maid in stature grew
(A flow'r just op'ning to her view)
Oft through her native lawns she stray'd,
And wrestling with the lambkins play'd;
Her looks diffusive sweets bequeath'd,
The breeze grew purer as she breath'd;
The morn her radiant blush assum'd,
The spring with earlier fragrance bloom'd;
And nature yearly took delight,
Like her to dress the world in white.

But when her rising form was seen To reach the crisis of fifteen, Her parents up the mountain's head With anxious step their darling led; By turns they snatch'd her to their breast And thus the fears of age express'd:

O joyful cause of many a care! O daughter too divinely fair! Yon world, on this important day, Demands thee to a dang`rous way; A painful journey all must go, Whose doubted period none can know ; Whose due direction who can find, Where reason's mute, and sense is blind! Ah, what unequal leaders these, Through such a wide, perplexing maze! Then mark the warnings of the wise, And learn what love and years advise.

Far to the right thy prospect bend, Where yonder tow'ring hills ascend; Lo! there the arduous path's in view Which Virtue and her sons pursue;

Hither, fairest, hither haste.
Brightest beauty, come and taste
What the pow'rs of bliss unfold,
Joys too mighty to be told:
Taste what ecstasies they give;
Dying raptures taste, and live.

In thy lap, disdaining measure,
Nature empties all her treasure,
Soft desires, that sweetly languish ;
Fierce delights, that rise to anguish ;
Fairest, dost thou yet delay ?
Brightest beauty, come away.
List not, when the froward chide,
Sons of pedantry and pride,
Snarlers, to whose feeble sense
April's sunshine is offence;
Age and envy will advise
E'en against the joy they prize.

Come, in pleasure's balmy bowl
Slake the thirstings of thy soul,
Till thy raptur'd powers are fainting
With enjoyment past the painting;
Fairest, dost thou yet delay ?
Brightest beauty, come away.
So sung the Sirens, as of yore,
Upon the false Ausonian shore;
And O! for that preventing chain
That bound Ulysses on the main,
That so our Fair One might withstand
The covert ruin, now at hand.

The song her charm'd attention drew,
When now the tempters stood in view;
Curiosity, with prying eyes,

And hands of busy bold emprise;

Like Hermes, feather'd were her feet;
And, like fore-running Fancy, fleet;
By search untaught, by toil untir'd,
To novelty she still aspir'd,
Tasteless of every good possest,
And but in expectation blest.

With her, associate, Pleasure came,
Gay Pleasure, frolic-loving dame,
Her mien all swimming in delight,
Her beauties half reveal'd to sight;
Loose flow'd her garments from the ground,
And caught the kissing winds around:
As erst Medusa's looks were known
To turn beholders into stone,

A dire reversion here they felt,
And in the eye of Pleasure melt.

Her glance, with sweet persuasion charm'd,
Unnerv'd the strong, the steel disarm'd;
No safety e'en the flying find,
Who, vent'rous, look but once behind

Thus was the much-admiring Maid,
While distant, more than half betray'd.
With smiles, and adulation bland,
They join'd her side, and seiz'd her hand;
Their touch envenom'd sweets instill'd,
Her frame with new pulsations thrill'd,
While half consenting, half denying,
Reluctant now, and now complying,
Amidst a war of hopes and fears,

Of trembling wishes, smiling tears,

Still down and down, the winning pair
Compell'd the struggling, yielding Fair:
As when some stately vessel, bound
To blest Arabia's distant ground,
Borne from her courses, haply lights
Where Barca's flow'ry clime invites,
Conceal'd around whose treach'rous land
Lurk the dire rock and dang'rous sand;
The pilot warns, with sail and oar
To shun the much suspected shore,
In vain; the tide, too subtly strong,
Still bears the wrestling bark along,
Till found'ring, she resigns to fate,
And sinks, o'erwhelm'd, with all her freight.
So, baffling ev'ry bar to sin,
And Heav'n's own pilot plac'd within,
Along the devious, smooth descent,
With pow'rs increasing as they went,
The dames, accustom❜d to subdue,
As with a rapid current drew,
And o'er the fatal bounds convey'd
The lost, the long-reluctant Maid.

Here stop, ye fair ones, and beware,
Nor send your fond affections there;
Yet, yet your darling, now deplor'd,
May turn, to you and heav'n restor❜d;
Till then, with weeping Honor wait,
The servant of her better fate;
With Honor, left upon the shore,
Her friend and handmaid now no more;
Nor, with the guilty world, upbraid
The fortunes of a wretch betray'd;
But o'er her failing cast a veil,
Rememb'ring you yourselves are frail.

And now from all-inquiring light,
Fast fled the conscious shades of night;
The Damsel, from a short repose,
Confounded at her plight, arose.

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 diamond dreams;
Like Midas, turn the glebe to ore,
And stands all rapt 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 i
And, O thou curst, 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 cried.

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;