The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2 | Page 3

he humbly would insist,?The bill might be with costs dismiss'd.?The cause appear'd of so much weight,?That Venus, from her judgment seat,?Desired them not to talk so loud,?Else she must interpose a cloud:?For if the heavenly folks should know?These pleadings in the courts below,?That mortals here disdain to love,?She ne'er could show her face above;?For gods, their betters, are too wise?To value that which men despise.?And then, said she, my son and I?Must stroll in air, 'twixt land and sky;?Or else, shut out from heaven and earth,?Fly to the sea, my place of birth:?There live with daggled mermaids pent,?And keep on fish perpetual Lent.?But since the case appear'd so nice,?She thought it best to take advice.?The Muses, by the king's permission,?Though foes to love, attend the session,?And on the right hand took their places?In order; on the left, the Graces:?To whom she might her doubts propose?On all emergencies that rose.?The Muses oft were seen to frown;?The Graces half ashamed look'd down;?And 'twas observed, there were but few?Of either sex among the crew,?Whom she or her assessors knew.?The goddess soon began to see,?Things were not ripe for a decree;?And said, she must consult her books,?The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, Cokes.?First to a dapper clerk she beckon'd?To turn to Ovid, book the second:?She then referr'd them to a place?In Virgil, vide Dido's case:?As for Tibullus's reports,?They never pass'd for law in courts:?For Cowley's briefs, and pleas of Waller,?Still their authority was smaller.?There was on both sides much to say:?She'd hear the cause another day;?And so she did; and then a third;?She heard it--there she kept her word:?But, with rejoinders or replies,?Long bills, and answers stuff'd with lies,?Demur, imparlance, and essoign,?The parties ne'er could issue join:?For sixteen years the cause was spun,?And then stood where it first begun.?Now, gentle Clio, sing, or say?What Venus meant by this delay??The goddess much perplex'd in mind?To see her empire thus declined,?When first this grand debate arose,?Above her wisdom to compose,?Conceived a project in her head?To work her ends; which, if it sped,?Would show the merits of the cause?Far better than consulting laws.?In a glad hour Lucina's aid?Produced on earth a wondrous maid,?On whom the Queen of Love was bent?To try a new experiment.?She threw her law-books on the shelf,?And thus debated with herself.?Since men allege, they ne'er can find?Those beauties in a female mind,?Which raise a flame that will endure?For ever uncorrupt and pure;?If 'tis with reason they complain,?This infant shall restore my reign.?I'll search where every virtue dwells,?From courts inclusive down to cells:?What preachers talk, or sages write;?These will I gather and unite,?And represent them to mankind?Collected in that infant's mind.?This said, she plucks in Heaven's high bowers?A sprig of amaranthine flowers.?In nectar thrice infuses bays,?Three times refined in Titan's rays;?Then calls the Graces to her aid,?And sprinkles thrice the newborn maid:?From whence the tender skin assumes?A sweetness above all perfumes:?From whence a cleanliness remains,?Incapable of outward stains:?From whence that decency of mind,?So lovely in the female kind,?Where not one careless thought intrudes;?Less modest than the speech of prudes;?Where never blush was call'd in aid,?That spurious virtue in a maid,?A virtue but at second-hand;?They blush because they understand.?The Graces next would act their part,?And show'd but little of their art;?Their work was half already done,?The child with native beauty shone;?The outward form no help required:?Each, breathing on her thrice, inspired?That gentle, soft, engaging air,?Which in old times adorn'd the fair:?And said, "Vanessa be the name?By which thou shall be known to fame:?Vanessa, by the gods enroll'd:?Her name on earth shall not be told."?But still the work was not complete;?When Venus thought on a deceit.?Drawn by her doves, away she flies,?And finds out Pallas in the skies.?Dear Pallas, I have been this morn?To see a lovely infant born:?A boy in yonder isle below,?So like my own without his bow,?By beauty could your heart be won,?You'd swear it is Apollo's son;?But it shall ne'er be said, a child?So hopeful, has by me been spoil'd:?I have enough besides to spare,?And give him wholly to your care.?Wisdom's above suspecting wiles;?The Queen of Learning gravely smiles,?Down from Olympus comes with joy,?Mistakes Vanessa for a boy;?Then sows within her tender mind?Seeds long unknown to womankind:?For manly bosoms chiefly fit,?The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit.?Her soul was suddenly endued?With justice, truth, and fortitude;?With honour, which no breath can stain,?Which malice must attack in vain;?With open heart and bounteous hand.?But Pallas here was at a stand;?She knew, in our degenerate days,?Bare virtue could not live on praise;?That meat must be with money bought:?She therefore, upon second thought,?Infused, yet as it were by stealth,?Some small regard for state and wealth;?Of which, as she grew up, there staid?A tincture in the prudent maid:?She managed her estate with care,?Yet liked three footmen to her chair.?But, lest he should neglect his studies?Like a young heir, the thrifty goddess?(For fear