Thus on Parnassus tuneful Hesiod sung, The mountain echoed, and the valley rung, The sacred groves a fix'd attention show, The crystal Helicon forbore to flow, The sky grew bright, and (if his verse be true) The Muses came to give the laurel too. But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit, If Love swore vengeance for the tales he writ? Ye fair offended, hear your friend relate What heavy judgment proved the writer's fate, 220 Though when it happen'd, no relation clears; 'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years. Where, dark and silent, with a twisted shade The neighbouring woods a native arbour made, There oft a tender pair for amorous play Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd hours away; A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he, A fair Milesian, kind Evanthe she: But swelling Nature, in a fatal hour, Betray'd the secrets of the conscious bower; 230 The dire disgrace her brothers count their own, And track her steps, to make its author known. It chanced one evening, ('twas the lover's day) Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay; When Hesiod, wandering, mused along the plain, And fix'd his seat where Love had fix'd the scene: A strong suspicion straight possess'd their mind, (For poets ever were a gentle kind.) But when Evanthe near the passage stood, Flung back a doubtful look, and shot the wood, 240 'Now take (at once they cry) thy due reward!' And, urged with erring rage, assault the bard. His corpse the sea received. The dolphins bore ('Twas all the gods would do) the corpse to shore. Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes, And see the dreams of ancient wisdom rise; I see the Muses round the body cry, But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by; He wheels his arrow with insulting hand, And thus inscribes the moral on the sand: 250 'Here Hesiod lies: ye future bards beware How far your moral tales incense the fair: Unloved, unloving, 'twas his fate to bleed; Without his quiver Cupid caused the deed: He judged this turn of malice justly due, And Hesiod died for joys he never knew.' * * * * * SONG. 1 When thy beauty appears, In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky; At distance I gaze, and am awed by my fears, So strangely you dazzle my eye! 2 But when without art, Your kind thoughts you impart, When your love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again. 3 There's a passion and pride In our sex (she replied), And thus (might I gratify both) I would do: Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you. * * * * * SONG.