Thisflatt’ry roused the beauteous widowed fair;
The
god of soft persuasion soon was there,
And
from his quiver in a moment drew
Two
arrows keen, which from his bow-string flew;
With
one he pierced the soldier to the heart,
The
lady slightly felt the other dart.
Her
youth and beauty, spite of tears, appeared,
And
men of taste such charms had long revered;
A
mind of tender feeling might, through life.
Have
loved her—even though she were a wife.
Thesentinel was smitten with her charms;
Grief,
pity, sighs, belong to Cupid’s arms;
When
bosoms heave and eyes are drowned in tears,
Then
beauty oft with conq’ring grace appears.
Beholdour widow list’ning to his praise,
Incipient
fuel Cupid’s flame to raise;
Behold
her, even glad to view the wight,
Whose
well tim’d flatt’ry filled her with delight
Atlength, to eat he on the fair prevailed,
And
pleased her better than the dead bewailed.
So
well he managed, that she changed her plan,
And,
by degrees, to love him fondly ’gan.
The
son of Mars a darling husband grew,
While
yet her former dear was full in view.
Meantimethe corpse, that long in chains had swung,
By
thieves was carried off from where it hung.
The
noise was heard, and thither ran our wight;
But
vain his efforts:—they were out of sight;
Confused,
distressed, he sought again the tomb,
To
tell his grief and settle, ’mid the gloom,
How
best to act, and where his head to hide,
Since
hang he must, the laws would now decide.
Theslave replied, your gibbet-thief, you say,
Some
lurking rogues this night have borne away:
The
law, it seems, will ne’er accord you grace
The
corpse that’s here, let’s set in t’other’s
place:
The
passers-by the change will never tell
The
lady gave consent, and all was well.
O
fickle females, ever you’re the same;
A
woman’s a woman, both in mind and name
Some
fair we find, and some unlike the dove,
But
CONSTANCY’S the highest charm of love.
Yeprudes, for ever doubt of full success;
Don’t
boast at all: too much you may profess,
How
good soever your design may be,
Not
less is ours, you easily may see;
The
Matron’s tale is not beyond belief:
To
entertain, our object is in chief.