And happy lovers bless my reign—­
So Venus hoped, but hoped in vain. 
  For when in time the Martial Maid
Found out the trick that Venus play’d,
She shakes her helm, she knits her brows,
And, fired with indignation, vows,
To-morrow, ere the setting sun,
She’d all undo that she had done. 
  But in the poets we may find
A wholesome law, time out of mind,
Had been confirm’d by Fate’s decree,
That gods, of whatsoe’er degree,
Resume not what themselves have given,
Or any brother god in Heaven: 
Which keeps the peace among the gods,
Or they must always be at odds: 
And Pallas, if she broke the laws,
Must yield her foe the stronger cause;
A shame to one so much adored
For wisdom at Jove’s council-board. 
Besides, she fear’d the Queen of Love
Would meet with better friends above. 
And though she must with grief reflect,
To see a mortal virgin deck’d
With graces hitherto unknown
To female breasts, except her own: 
Yet she would act as best became
A goddess of unspotted fame. 
She knew, by augury divine,
Venus would fail in her design: 
She studied well the point, and found
Her foe’s conclusions were not sound,
From premises erroneous brought,
And therefore the deduction’s naught,
And must have contrary effects,
To what her treacherous foe expects. 
  In proper season Pallas meets
The Queen of Love, whom thus she greets,
(For gods, we are by Homer told,
Can in celestial language scold:)—­
Perfidious goddess! but in vain
You form’d this project in your brain;
A project for your talents fit,
With much deceit and little wit. 
Thou hast, as thou shall quickly see,
Deceived thyself, instead of me;
For how can heavenly wisdom prove
An instrument to earthly love? 
Know’st thou not yet, that men commence
Thy votaries for want of sense? 
Nor shall Vanessa be the theme
To manage thy abortive scheme: 
She’ll prove the greatest of thy foes;
And yet I scorn to interpose,
But, using neither skill nor force,
Leave all things to their natural course. 
  The goddess thus pronounced her doom: 
When, lo!  Vanessa in her bloom
Advanced, like Atalanta’s star,
But rarely seen, and seen from far: 
In a new world with caution slept,
Watch’d all the company she kept,
Well knowing, from the books she read,
What dangerous paths young virgins tread: 
Would seldom at the Park appear,
Nor saw the play-house twice a year;
Yet, not incurious, was inclined
To know the converse of mankind. 
  First issued from perfumers’ shops,
A crowd of fashionable fops: 
They ask’d her how she liked the play;
Then told the tattle of the day;
A duel fought last night at two,
About a lady—­you know who;
Mention’d a new Italian, come
Either from Muscovy or Rome;
Gave hints of who and who’s together;
Then fell to talking of the weather;