The Origin of the Fan

Once in Arcadia, that fam'd seat of love, There liv'd a nymph, the pride of all the grove, A lovely nymph, adorn'd with ev'ry grace, An easy shape, and sweetly blooming face; Fanny the damsel's name, as chaste as fair, Each virgin's envy, and each swain's despair: To charm her ear the rival shepherds sing, Blow the soft flute, and wake the trembling string: For her they leave their wand'ring flocks to rove, Whilst Fanny's name resounds thro' ev'ry grove, And spreads on ev'ry tree, inclos'd in knots of love; As Fielding's now, her eyes all hearts inflame, Like her in beauty, as alike in name.

'Twas when the summer sun, now mounted high, With fiercer beams had scorch'd the glowing sky, Beneath the covert of a cooling shade, To shun the heat, this lovely nymph was laid; The sultry weather o'er her cheeks had spread A blush, that added to their native red; Aeolus the mighty god, whom winds obey, Observ'd the beauteous maid, as thus she lay, O'er all her charms he gaz'd with fond delight, And suck'd in poison at the dang'rous sight: He sighs, he burns; at last declares his pain, But still he sighs, and still he woos in vain; The cruel nymph, regardless of his moan, Minds not his flame, uneasy with her own; But still complains, that he who rul'd the air Would not command one zephyr to repair Around her face, nor gentle breeze to play Through the dark glade to cool the sultry day. By love incited, and the hopes of joy, Th' ingenious god contriv'd this pretty toy, With gales incessant to relieve her flame; And call'd it PAN, from lovely Fanny's name.