The Needle. a Poetical Essay, Canto V

Resume we now the theme, historic Maid, Where we digressive broke the homespun thread, Tho' every Muse in episode delight, Subject and episode are shade and light.

Ere the gay thimble claim'd its later birth, Ere gold and luxury had stain'd the earth, Long had the taper finger felt the smart, Sharp as the wound which thrills from Cupid's dart, Whose arrows dipt in honey, and in gall, With softer puncture Chloe's heart enthrall: Various expedients were applied in vain, To guard the fair-one from the stinging pain, Thick leaves subsidiary were often bound On folded paper, to prevent the wound, Until the blue-eyed Maid's indulgent care, Full oft invok'd, took pity on the fair, She, from the regions of eternal day, To Paphos on a visit wing'd her way.

The queen of beauty saw, with wondering eye, Wisdom, bright regent, and her chariot, nigh, When thus aside—"What cause can Pallas move, " That Prude divine, to grace the court of Love? " Why this high honour from th' imperial dame, " Whose cold virginity defies our flame?" She rung the bell—a thousand Cupids hear, A thousand Cupids at the porch appear, Vying they seem to wage a sportive war, Who first shall help the Goddess from her car. " What favour can Minerva ask from Love?" Said Venus to the head-sprung child of Jove, " Since Wisdom solemnly disowns his sway, " And rarely deigns to trifle time away." " Oh! Goddess, you mistake, Minerva cried, " Apollo's self the pleasing smart has tried, " Fair Daphne's name in capitals he wears, " The posy of the ring which binds his hairs; " A sprig of laurel in his bosom too, " For Love the power of Wisdom can subdue; " But not for man Minerva sues your grace, " I beg a favour for the female race; " A boon, which Cupid and his Loves may grant, " Your son ne'er frown'd upon a woman's want.

" The maids of industry, whom I protect, " And next to wisdom's sons esteem my sect, " Have long implor'd me to remove a pain " From fingers wounded with a guiltless stain, " Not reputation's wound, which few can bear, " Is half so painful to my darling fair: " An implement there is, a female toy, " Sharp as the arrow of your one-eyed boy, " With this the sisters of my art have led " Long-time, with pleasing toil, the ductile thread, " But pleasing toils are mingled still with pain, " Such is the chequer'd lot of human gain— " The useful toy, fallacious to its trust, " Ost at the head has thro' the finger burst, " Whence trickling ichor issues from the wound, " Tho' guarded well with leaves, or paper round— " This is the implement—behold the head! " From which the purest virgin blood is shed; " I had, myself, to Mulciber applied, " But toys, like these, are more to Love allied; " Vulcan, on sight, would take it for a dart, " And, seen, refer me to young Cupid's art: " Therefore to Love I supplicate alone, " And at his footstool beg the gracious boon, " That, corresponding to the needle's head, " A guard be form'd, which should the finger wed, " To shield th' industrious fair from future harm." To whom Love's Queen, with glowing friendship warm, " Be thine to think how Venus to oblige, " Who highly honours Wisdom's sovereign liege, " Be her's to speak, and Venus shall attend " To every mandate of her lovely friend."

Scarce had she spoke, when empty-quiver'd came The potent God of every softer flame, " Mama, he cried—I've emptied all my store, " And now am come to forge ten thousand more. " In Mecklenburg I've lodg'd a golden dart, " And left its fellow in Augusta's heart; " And, laughing, ran away—the last I shot, " Not easily the sting will be forgot, " Hymen shall celebrate their nuptials soon, " Or else my bow and arrow's out of tune."

Here interrupted Love's imperial queen, (For shy Minerva ran behind the skreen) " Who do you think, you wanton, claims your power? " No less than wisdom's Goddess, and this hour— " This precious hour bright Wisdom claims your aid, " Appear, Minerva, from behind yon shade;" At sight of Wisdom Cupid scrap'd a bow, Half smile, half frown, contending on his brow,

" My dear, Minerva cried, my dimpled boy, " For what you told Mama, I give you joy, " And honour you for those well-chosen darts " Infix'd so wisely in two royal hearts, " There may I safely with thy conquests join, " Their heads belong to me—their hearts be thine— " I'm come to beg a boon—you'll not deny? " 'Tis for your favourite women I apply;"— She then produc'd the needle to his view, Alas! the well-known instrument he knew.

" And what am I to do with this?" says Love, " Is it a doughty thunderbolt of Jove, " With which, when you first started from his brain, " You sagely thought man's vices to restrain?"

He jesting spoke—Minerva understood, And, spite of wisdom, anger flush'd her blood.

" Nay, be not angry, bright, sagacious dame," Sly Cupid cried—"my Psyche has the same, " Ten thousand of such toys my art has form'd " Long since—when in my forge the steel I warm'd;" " No,"—smiling answer'd the all-sapient queen, " I want a guard, or shield, to intervene, " To save the finger from the poignant smart, " No shield but mine, I know, can turn thy dart."

To whom young Cupid—stifling here a laugh, " You over-rate my wisdom, now, by half: " Myriads of shields, adapted to the use, " Long since for women did my skill produce; " Thimbles you mean, well known to every maid, " Long since my forges form'd the bright parade, " Wisdom not always knows what Love has done, " Tho' bright Minerva mocks at Beauty's son, " Secreted still be all her wiles from me, " And Love's arcanas be conceal'd from thee, " Just vengeance for Arachne's wretched doom! " For Love now guides the needle and the loom;"

He laugh'd—a thousand Loves the banter join, Which half abash the Goddess, tho' divine, Her car precipitate she mounts, and flies To seek her own dominion in the skies; Foil'd by the God, to him she left the care Of every toy, which decorates the fair; And Love shall reign in spite of Wisdom's rules, And Love shall prove her wisest sages—fools.