As those rare acts which Honour taught Our daring sons where Granby[227] fought, 310 Or those which, with superior skill, Sackville achieved by standing still. This hag, (the curious, if they please, May search, from earliest times to these, And poets they will always see With gods and goddesses make free, Treating them all, except the Muse, As scarcely fit to wipe their shoes) Who had beheld, from first to last, How our triumvirate had pass'd 320 Night's dreadful interval, and heard, With strict attention, every word, Soon as she saw return of light, On sounding pinions took her flight. Swift through the regions of the sky, Above the reach of human eye, Onward she drove the furious blast, And rapid as a whirlwind pass'd, O'er countries, once the seats of Taste, By Time and Ignorance laid waste; 330 O'er lands, where former ages saw Reason and Truth the only law; Where Arts and Arms, and Public Love, In generous emulation strove; Where kings were proud of legal sway, And subjects happy to obey, Though now in slavery sunk, and broke To Superstition's galling yoke; Of Arts, of Arms, no more they tell, Or Freedom, which with Science fell, 340 By tyrants awed, who never find The passage to their people's mind; To whom the joy was never known Of planting in the heart their throne; Far from all prospect of relief, Their hours in fruitless prayers and grief, For loss of blessings, they employ, Which we unthankfully enjoy. Now is the time (had we the will) To amaze the reader with our skill, 350 To pour out such a flood of knowledge As might suffice for a whole college, Whilst with a true poetic force, We traced the goddess in her course, Sweetly describing, in our flight, Each common and uncommon sight, Making our journal gay and pleasant, With things long past, and things now present. Rivers--once nymphs--(a transformation Is mighty pretty in relation) 360 From great authorities we know Will matter for a tale bestow: To make the observation clear, We give our friends an instance here. The day (that never is forgot) Was very fine, but very hot; The nymph (another general rule) Inflamed with heat, laid down to cool; Her hair (we no exceptions find) Waved careless, floating in the wind; 370 Her heaving breasts, like summer seas, Seem'd amorous of the playful breeze: Should fond Description tune our lays In choicest accents to her praise, Description we at last should find, Baffled and weak, would halt behind. Nature had form'd her to inspire In every bosom soft desire; Passions to raise, she could not feel, Wounds to inflict, she would not heal. 380 A god, (his name is no great matter, Perhaps a Jove, perhaps a Satyr) Raging with lust, a godlike flame, By chance, as usual, thither came;