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

on the nymphs be
placed
Grown so corrupted in their taste.
The pleader having spoke
his best,
Had witness ready to attest,
Who fairly could on oath
depose,
When questions on the fact arose,

That every article was
true;
Nor further those deponents knew:
Therefore 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,