Calistasaw the flatt’ring lover’s scheme;
          And turned to ridicule the wily theme. 
          His manner Damon changed, from gay to grave: 
          Now sighs, then tears; but nothing could enslave;
          The lady, virtue firmly would maintain;
          At length, the husband, seeing all was vain,
          Proposed a bribe, and offered such a sum,
          Her anger dropt:  the belle was overcome. 
          The price was very large, it might excuse,
          Though she at first was prompted to refuse;
          At last, howe’er her chastity gave way: 
          To gold’s allurements few will offer nay! 
          The cash, resistance had so fully laid,
          Surrender would at any time be made. 
          The precious ore has universal charms,
          Enchains the will, or sets the world in arms!

          Thoughelegant your form, and smart your dress,
          Your air, your language, ev’ry warmth express
          Yet, if a banker, or a financier,
          With handsome presents happen to appear,
          At once is blessed the wealthy paramour,
          While you a year may languish at the door.

          Thisheart, inflexible, it seems, gave ground,
          To money’s pow’rful, all-subduing sound;
          The rock now disappeared—­and, in its stead,
          A lamb was found, quite easy to be led,
          Who, as a proof, resistance she would wave,
          A kiss, by way of earnest freely gave. 
          No further would the husband push the dame,
          Nor be himself a witness of his shame,
          But straight resumed his form, and to his wife,
          Cried, O Calista! once my soul and life
          Calista, whom I fondly cherished long;
          Calista, whose affection was so strong;
          Is gold more dear than hearts in union twined? 
          To wash thy guilt, thy blood should be assigned. 
          But still I love thee, spite of evil thought;
          My death will pay the ills thou’st on me brought.

          Themetamorphosis our dame surprised;
          To give relief her tears but just sufficed;
          She scarcely spoke; the husband, days remained,
          Reflecting on the circumstance that pained. 
          Himself a cuckold could he ever make,
          By mere design a liberty to take? 
          But, horned or not? the question seemed to be,
          When Neria told him, if from doubts not free,
          Drink from the cup:—­with so much art ’tis made,
          That, whose’er of cuckoldom ’s afraid,
          Let him but put it to his eager lips
          If he’s a cuckold, out the liquor slips;
          He naught can swallow; and the whole is thrown
          About his face or clothes, as oft ’s been shown. 
          But should, from out his brow, no horns yet pop—­
          He drinks the whole, nor spills a single drop.