The Thimble, Canto III

Now all lay hush'd in solitary Night, And distant Stars diffus'd a solemn Light; The World appear'd a desert, silent Scene, And all around was dreadfully serene; Now ghastly stalk'd a melancholy Train, By Knife, by Halter, and by Poison slain; Whose woful Mem'ries Grub-street Bards prolong, In dismal Story, or in doleful Song: Nor School-boys Shout was heard, nor Carman's Roar, Ev'n Winds were still, and Women spoke no more: The Sons of Men dissolv'd in Slumbers lay, And Slaves, and Kings forgot the Toils of Day.

But wakeful Cares disturb'd the Baron's Brain, And weary'd Nature call'd for Rest in vain; Anxious to ease the sadly-wounded Fair, To Venus he address'd his Midnight Pray'r:

Great Paphian Queen, bright Deity of Love, Whom all below confess, and all above, If e'er with Gifts thy Altars I have crown'd, Or deck'd with flow'ry Wreaths thy Shrine around; If I have taught my tender Soul to own No Pow'rs but thee, and thy all-conqu'ring Son; If by thy Aid I ken Love's secret Fire, Each budding Wish, and ev'ry fond Desire; Read in the Virgin's Eyes her inward Smart, And know each Symptom of a Lovesick Heart; Renew thy Favours oft bestow'd before, And hear me now, or never hear me more. Behold my Fannia, late a Virgin bright, As Love can fancy, or as Verse can write; Now see her sad, dejected, and forlorn, That once was chearful as the rising Morn; With all-consuming Grief she wastes away, Ev'n She, the Fair, the Witty, and the Gay; Pensive she moans her wounded Finger's Smart, And sinks from all her Loftiness of Heart. O grant my Boon, and ease the Virgin's Pain, Ease it, to bless Mankind, and me again; With sovereign Balm the shameful Scar remove, And teach! O teach her to relent to Love! So shall each Beau with Spleen and Envy see The Mistress of the World subdu'd by me; The yielding Fair shall ev'ry Charm resign, And Hymen shall our Hearts in lasting Union join.

Thus far with wakeful Zeal the Baron said, Slumbers ensu'd, and nods the heavy Head.

Venus with Pity heard the Beau's Request, And thus the stripling God of Love address'd: My Son, thy Bow and keenest Shafts prepare; 'Tis thine to humble this imperious Fair: Enough the Maid has seen with high Disdain The Coxcomb's Anguish, and the Fopling's Pain; At length, herself shall own Love's pow'rful Sway (For all must once the Laws of Love obey) And slighted Beaux shall bless the Vengeance of this Day. Cynthio the Bright that yonder sleeping lies, Whose Fires perpetual on my Altars rise, In vain, the Force of ev'ry pleasing Art Has try'd, to soften that obdurate Heart: To him the Fair her Beauties shall resign, His be the glorious Prize, the Conquest thine. But first some sov'reign Med'cine must be found, To ease the Torments of the fatal Wound; And see! within this Crystal are contain'd Drops, which from wholsom Herbs long since were drain'd; The wholsom Herbs in Jove's fam'd Island grow, And flourish fresh on Ida's lofty Brow: 'Twas this my best-lov'd Offspring once restor'd, When all Troy trembl'd for her wounded Lord: This healing Juice shall cure the Virgin's Pain, And Fannia's Smiles shall chear the World again. Hence, let us quick, my Son, to Earth repair, This Night shall be fulfill'd the Baron's Pray'r.

She said, and o'er her snowy Shoulders threw A shining Mantle of an azure Hue; Two silken Knots her flowing Hair divide, And Cupid arm'd came smiling by her Side: Wrap'd in a sable Cloud they took their Way, Like Lightning darting through the Realms of Day; Swift as they past, Perfumes divine they shed, And now hung hov'ring o'er the Virgin's Bed: O'er the wide Room a Taper's steady Light Cast a pale Lustre, and dispell'd the Night: The lofty Cieling, glorious to behold, Was carv'd, and studded o'er with Stars of Gold: The ample Walls vast Folds of Tap'stry grace; Here bright Diana seem'd to urge the Chace, Panting behind her came her Virgin Train, And the huge Boar ran foaming o'er the Plain; Here Daphne sought the Shelter of the Wood, And here with eager Steps the God pursu'd: Pleas'd Venus saw; at length herself survey'd, Fondly lamenting o'er Adonis dead; At that sad Scene her Tears began to flow, And her Breast labour'd with the former Woe: She turn'd aside, new Objects to explore, Nor durst behold the fatal Image more. Here a rich Structure's stately Bulk was set, Whose golden Figures blaz'd on Plains of Jet; From India's farthest Coast the Fabrick came, A Lover's Off'ring to the haughty Dame: Here the rich Vest, and sparkling Diamond lay, All Beauty's pleasing, terrible Array! The spacious Top whole Groups of China grace, Of Men and Beasts, a vast promiscuous Race; Two rampant Lions at each Corner stood, The dreadful Guardians of the sacred Wood; Sullen the brittle Savages look'd down, And the terrific China seem'd to frown. Th' Immortals next the well-wrought Bed survey'd, Where lay, dissolv'd in Sleep, the lovely Maid; Wrapt in sweet Dreams of Conquest, Love, and Play; Pleas'd she renew'd the Triumphs of the Day; Disdainful ev'n in Slumbers she grew vain, And practis'd all her Conquests o'er again, And thrice she vanquish'd all her Beaux, and thrice she slew the Slain. Her Watch of Gold hung pendent o'er her Head, And deck'd with glitt'ring Pomp the lofty Bed; It strikes, as ev'ry rapid Hour glides round; It strikes, Mortality is in the Sound!

Oh! did the Belles, while yet in Beauty's Prime, Take warning from these Records of their Time; Think ev'ry Year may steal away a Grace, And prey unheeded on the fairest Face; Conscious of fading Charms they'd lay aside, Each Art coquetish, and each Air of Pride; Nor blast their Lovers Hopes by long Delay, But yield those Beauties, which must soon decay!

Venus, at length, a golden Quill espy'd, That once adorn'd a gaudy Peacock's Side, (This pen'd the Fair one's Thoughts with wond'rous Art, And told the soft Emotions of her Heart; Describ'd her inmost Soul, without Disguise, And Truths deny'd to Man's unhallow'd Eyes) Lo! in the sacred Drops the shining Plume She dyes, and heav'nly Odours fill the Room; With this she gently bath'd the swelling Wound, It heal'd, it clos'd, and all the Part was sound. Cupid beheld, and, Be that Glory thine, He cry'd, but now behold a Work of mine: Coy Maids, and haughty Belles revere me all, Beauty must yield, and Woman's Pride must fall: For now an inward Pang the Fair shall feel, Not all the Pow'rs of Heav'n and Earth can heal. He said; he bit his Lip, and drew his Bow, And view'd exulting the defenceless Foe; Then, with malicious Zeal, he shot the Dart, That fatal lodg'd deep sunk in Fannia's Heart. Then thrice was heard the wounded Virgin's Groan; And thrice the Parrot scream'd his hideous Moan; Thrice bark'd the Lap-Dog from his downy Bed, And thrice the Kitten rear'd her drowsy Head!

Alas! how short-liv'd is all human Pow'r! The Pride of Years is blasted in an Hour: All the gay Plans of Conquest, all the Schemes The Maid had form'd, are fled like Morning Dreams; The Baron shall possess her Beauty's Store, And Fanny must insult Mankind no more.

Then Venus thus address'd the sleeping Fair: O Thou, thrice blest in Heav'n's peculiar Care, Thou, that can'st all the Gifts of Nature boast, Charge of Immortals, and the Mortals Toast; Revere the Counsels of the Pow'rs above, Forego thy Empire, and submit to Love; Here cease the Triumphs of thy conqu'ring Charms, Decreed by Fate to Cynthio's faithful Arms: Nor with Reluctance yield; for thou, bright Maid, Enough hast rul'd, and Man enough obey'd: Bless this auspicious Night, nor henceforth fear To lift with artful Hand the pointed Spear; Safely the dang'rous Weapon shalt thou wield, Thy Finger guarded by a sacred Shield: Vulcan himself the Target shall prepare, That arms for Fight the gallant God of War: So shall thy Needle still extend thy Fame, And Ages yet to come admire thy Name; The pleasing Tale shall dwell on ev'ry Tongue, And grace the Numbers of some Poet's Song; And each bright Virgin, each industrious Fair, Hereafter fearless of the fatal Scar, My Name shall high-extol with grateful Praise, While purrs the Kitten, and the Lap-Dog bays; While Winds shall breathe, and rapid Rivers flow; And am'rous Sonnets sooth the Love-sick Beau. But let us hence, my Son, with Speed away, E'er yet the Morning ushers in the Day; Next Aetna's gloomy Caverns we'll explore, Where Vulcan's everlasting Forges roar.

She said; and straight they glided on unseen, Swift as the filmy Mists that skim the Green.