The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2 | Page 6

can find
In eyes with reading almost blind:

Cadenus now no more appears
Declined in health, advanced in years.

She fancies music in his tongue;
Nor farther looks, but thinks him
young.
What mariner is not afraid
To venture in a ship decay'd?

What planter will attempt to yoke
A sapling with a falling oak?
As
years increase, she brighter shines;
Cadenus with each day declines:

And he must fall a prey to time,
While she continues in her prime.

Cadenus, common forms apart,
In every scene had kept his heart;

Had sigh'd and languish'd, vow'd and writ,
For pastime, or to show
his wit,
But books, and time, and state affairs,
Had spoil'd his
fashionable airs:
He now could praise, esteem, approve,
But
understood not what was love.
His conduct might have made him
styled
A father, and the nymph his child.
That innocent delight he
took
To see the virgin mind her book,
Was but the master's secret
joy
In school to hear the finest boy.
Her knowledge with her fancy
grew;
She hourly press'd for something new;
Ideas came into her
mind
So fast, his lessons lagg'd behind;
She reason'd, without
plodding long,
Nor ever gave her judgment wrong.
But now a
sudden change was wrought;
She minds no longer what he taught.

Cadenus was amazed to find
Such marks of a distracted mind:
For,
though she seem'd to listen more
To all he spoke, than e'er before,

He found her thoughts would absent range,
Yet guess'd not whence
could spring the change.

And first he modestly conjectures
His
pupil might be tired with lectures;
Which help'd to mortify his pride,

Yet gave him not the heart to chide:
But, in a mild dejected strain,

At last he ventured to complain:
Said, she should be no longer
teazed,
Might have her freedom when she pleased;
Was now
convinced he acted wrong
To hide her from the world so long,
And
in dull studies to engage
One of her tender sex and age;
That every
nymph with envy own'd,
How she might shine in the grand monde:

And every shepherd was undone
To see her cloister'd like a nun.

This was a visionary scheme:
He waked, and found it but a dream;


A project far above his skill:
For nature must be nature still.
If he
were bolder than became
A scholar to a courtly dame,
She might
excuse a man of letters;
Thus tutors often treat their better;
And,
since his talk offensive grew,
He came to take his last adieu.

Vanessa, fill'd with just disdain,
Would still her dignity maintain,

Instructed from her early years
To scorn the art of female tears.
Had
he employ'd his time so long
To teach her what was right and wrong;

Yet could such notions entertain
That all his lectures were in vain?

She own'd the wandering of her thoughts;
But he must answer for
her faults.
She well remember'd to her cost,
That all his lessons
were not lost.
Two maxims she could still produce,
And sad
experience taught their use;
That virtue, pleased by being shown,

Knows nothing which it dares not own;
Can make us without fear
disclose
Our inmost secrets to our foes;
That common forms were
not design'd
Directors to a noble mind.
Now, said the nymph, to let
you see
My actions with your rules agree;
That I can vulgar forms
despise,
And have no secrets to disguise;
I knew, by what you said
and writ,
How dangerous things were men of wit;
You caution'd me
against their charms,
But never gave me equal arms;
Your lessons
found the weakest part,
Aim'd at the head, but reach'd the heart.

Cadenus felt within him rise
Shame, disappointment, guilt, surprise.

He knew not how to reconcile
Such language with her usual style:

And yet her words were so exprest,
He could not hope she spoke in
jest.
His thoughts had wholly been confined
To form and cultivate
her mind.
He hardly knew, till he was told,
Whether the nymph
were young or old;
Had met her in a public place,
Without
distinguishing her face;
Much less could his declining age

Vanessa's earliest thoughts engage;
And, if her youth indifference
met,
His person must contempt beget;
Or grant her passion be
sincere,
How shall his innocence be clear?
[3]Appearances were all
so strong,
The world must think him in the wrong;
Would say, he
made a treacherous use
Of wit, to flatter and seduce;
The town
would swear, he had betray'd
By magic spells the harmless maid:


And every beau would have his joke,
That scholars were like other
folk;
And, when Platonic flights were over,
The tutor turn'd a
mortal lover!
So tender of the young and fair!
It show'd a true
paternal care--
Five thousand guineas in her purse!
The doctor
might have fancied worse.--
Hardly at length he silence broke,
And
falter'd every word he spoke;
Interpreting her complaisance,
Just as
a man sans consequence.
She rallied well, he always knew:
Her
manner now was something new;
And what she spoke was in an air

As serious as a tragic player.
But those who aim at ridicule

Should fix upon some certain rule,
Which fairly hints they are in jest,

Else he must enter his protest:
For let a man be ne'er so wise,
He
may be caught with sober lies;
A science which he never taught,

And, to be free, was dearly bought;
For, take it in its proper light,

'Tis just what coxcombs call a bite.
But, not to dwell on things minute,

Vanessa finish'd the dispute;
Brought weighty arguments to prove

That reason was her guide in love.
She thought he had himself