Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore, Full well they merit all they feel, and more: 30 Unawed by precepts, human or divine, Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join: Nor know to make the present blessing last, To hope the future, or esteem the past: But vainly boast the joys they never tried, 35 And find divulged the secrets they would hide.

The married man may bear his yoke with ease, Secure at once himself and heav'n to please; And pa.s.s his inoffensive hours away, In bliss all night, and innocence all day: 40 Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains, Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.

But what so pure, which envious tongues will spare?

Some wicked wits have libelled all the fair.

With matchless impudence they style a wife 45 The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life; A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night invasion, and a mid-day devil.

Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard, But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard.[5] 50 All other goods by fortune's hand are giv'n, A wife is the peculiar gift of heav'n.

Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay, Like empty shadows, pa.s.s, and glide away; One solid comfort, our eternal wife, 55 Abundantly supplies us all our life; This blessing lasts, if those who try, say true, As long as heart can wish--and longer too.

Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possessed, Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unblessed, 60 With mournful looks the blissful scenes surveyed, And wandered in the solitary shade.

The Maker saw, took pity, and bestowed Woman, the last, the best reserve of G.o.d.

A wife! ah gentle deities,[6] can he, 65 That has a wife, e'er feel adversity?

Would men but follow what the s.e.x advise, All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.

'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won His father's blessing from an elder son:[7] 70 Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit life To the wise conduct of a prudent wife: Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show, Preserved the Jews, and slew th' a.s.syrian foe:[8]

At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword 75 Was sheathed, and Israel lived to bless the Lord.

These weighty motives, January the sage Maturely pondered in his riper age; And charmed with virtuous joys, and sober life, Would try that christian comfort, called a wife. 80 His friends were summoned on a point so nice,[9]

To pa.s.s their judgment, and to give advice; But fixed before, and well resolved was he, As men that ask advice are wont to be.

My friends, he cried (and cast a mournful look 85 Around the room, and sighed before he spoke): Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend, And, worn with cares, am hast'ning to my end; How I have lived, alas! you know too well, In worldly follies, which I blush to tell; 90 But gracious heav'n has ope'd my eyes at last, With due regret I view my vices past, And, as the precept of the church decrees, Will take a wife, and live in holy ease.

But since by counsel all things should be done, 95 And many heads are wiser still than one, Chuse you for me,[10] who best shall be content When my desire's approved by your consent.

One caution yet is needful to be told, To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:[11] 100 There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.

My soul abhors the tasteless, dry embrace Of a stale virgin with a winter face: In that cold season love but treats his guest 105 With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best No crafty widows shall approach my bed; Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.

As subtle clerks by many schools are made, Twice married dames are mistresses o' th' trade: 110 But young and tender virgins ruled with ease, We form like wax, and mould them as we please.

Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss; 'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss; Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse, 115 As flesh is frail, and who, G.o.d help me, knows?

Then should I live in lewd adultery, And sink downright to Satan when I die.

Or were I cursed with an unfruitful bed, The righteous end were lost for which I wed; 120 To raise up seed to bless the pow'rs above, And not for pleasure only, or for love.[12]

Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a wife, When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life: Those that are blest with store of grace divine, 125 May live like saints, by heav'n's consent, and mine.[13]

And since I speak of wedlock, let me say, (As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may,) My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart, And a new vigour springs in ev'ry part. 130 Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed These rev'rend honours on my h.o.a.ry head: Thus trees are crowned with blossoms white as snow, The vital sap then rising from below.[14]

Old as I am, my l.u.s.ty limbs appear 135 Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.

Now, sirs, you know, to what I stand inclined, Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his mind.[15]

He said; the rest in diff'rent parts divide; The knotty point was urged on either side: 140 Marriage, the theme on which they all declaimed, Some praised with wit, and some with reason blamed, Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies, Each wond'rous positive, and wond'rous wise, There fell between his brothers a debate, 145 Placebo this was called, and Justin that.

First to the knight Placebo thus begun, (Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone,) Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears, As plainly proves, experience dwells with years; 150 Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice, To work by counsel when affairs are nice: But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest, } So may my soul arrive at ease and rest, } As still I hold your own advice the best. } 155 Sir, I have lived a courtier all my days, And studied men, their manners, and their ways; And have observed this useful maxim still, To let my betters always have their will.

Nay, if my lord affirmed that black was white, 160 My word was this, "Your honour's in the right."

Th' a.s.suming wit, who deems himself so wise, As his mistaken patron to advise, Let Tirm not dare to vent his dang'rous thought, A n.o.ble fool was never in a fault.[16] 165 This, sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry word Is weighed with judgment, and befits a lord: Your will is mine; and is, I will maintain, Pleasing to G.o.d, and should be so to man; At least your courage all the world must praise, 170 Who dare to wed in your declining days.

Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood, And let grey fools be indolently good, Who, past all pleasure, d.a.m.n the joys of sense, With rev'rend dulness and grave impotence.[17] 175 Justin, who silent sat, and heard the man, Thus, with a philosophic frown, began: A heathen author,[18] of the first degree, Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we, Bids us be certain our concerns to trust 180 To those of gen'rous principles, and just.

The venture's greater, I'll presume to say, To give your person, than your goods away: And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest, First learn your lady's qualities at least: 185 Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil; Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil; Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool, Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule.[19]

'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find 190 In all this world, much less in woman-kind; But if her virtues prove the larger share, Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.

Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend, Who knows too well the state you thus commend; 195 And spite of all its praises must declare, All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.

Heav'n knows, I shed full many a private tear, And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear: While all my friends applaud my blissful life, 200 And swear no mortal's happier in a wife; Demure and chaste as any vestal nun, The meekest creature that beholds the sun!

But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain, And he that smarts has reason to complain. 205 Do what you list, for me; you must be sage, And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age: But at these years to venture on the fair![20]

By him, who made the ocean, earth, and air, To please a wife, when her occasions call, 210 Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.

And trust me, sir, the chastest you can chuse Will ask observance, and exact her dues.

If what I speak my n.o.ble lord offend, My tedious sermon here is at an end.[21] 215 'Tis well, 'tis wond'rous well, the knight replies, Most worthy kinsman, faith you're mighty wise!

We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause To heath'nish authors, proverbs, and old saws.

He spoke with scorn, and turned another way:-- 220 What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?

I say, quoth he, by heav'n the man's to blame, To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.

At this the council rose, without delay; Each, in his own opinion, went his way; 225 With full consent, that, all disputes appeased, The knight should marry, when and where he pleased.

Who now but January exults with joy?

The charms of wedlock all his soul employ: Each nymph by turns his wav'ring mind possessed, 230 And reigned the short-lived tyrant of his breast; Whilst fancy pictured ev'ry lively part, And each bright image wandered o'er his heart.

Thus, in some public forum fixed on high, A mirror shows the figures moving by; 235 Still one by one, in swift succession, pa.s.s The gliding shadows o'er the polished gla.s.s.

This lady's charms the nicest could not blame, But vile suspicions had aspersed her fame; That was with sense, but not with virtue, blest: 240 And one had grace, that wanted all the rest.

Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey, He fixed at last upon the youthful May.

Her faults he knew not, love is always blind, But ev'ry charm revolved within his mind: 245 Her tender age, her form divinely fair, Her easy motion, her attractive air, Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face, Her moving softness, and majestic grace.[22]

Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice, 250 And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:[23]

Once more in haste he summoned ev'ry friend, And told them all, their pains were at an end.[24]

Heav'n, that (said he) inspired me first to wed, Provides a consort worthy of my bed: 255 Let none oppose th' election, since on this Depends my quiet, and my future bliss.[25]

A dame there is, the darling of my eyes, Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise; Chaste, though not rich; and though not n.o.bly born, 260 Of honest parents, and may serve my turn.[26]

Her will I wed, if gracious heav'n so please; To pa.s.s my age in sanct.i.ty and ease; And thank the pow'rs, I may possess alone The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none! 265 If you, my friends, this virgin can procure, My joys are full, my happiness is sure.

One only doubt remains: Full oft, I've heard, By casuists grave, and deep divines averred; That 'tis too much for human race to know 270 The bliss of heav'n above, and earth below.

Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great, To match the blessings of the future state, Those endless joys were ill exchanged for these; Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.[27] 275 This Justin heard, nor could his spleen controul, Touched to the quick, and tickled at the soul.

Sir knight, he cried, if this be all your dread, Heav'n put it past your doubt, whene'er you wed; And to my fervent prayers so far consent, 280 That ere the rites are o'er, you may repent!

Good heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial state approves, Since it chastises still what best it loves.

Then be not, sir, abandoned to despair; } Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair, } 285 One, that may do your business to a hair; } Not ev'n in wish, your happiness delay, But prove the scourge to lash you on your way: Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go, Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow! 290 Provided still, you moderate your joy, Nor in your pleasures all your might employ; Let reason's rule your strong desires abate, Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.

Old wives there are, of judgment most acute, 295 Who solve these questions beyond all dispute; Consult with those, and be of better cheer; Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.

So said, they rose, no more the work delayed;[28]

The match was offered, the proposals made 300 The parents, you may think, would soon comply; The old have int'rest ever in their eye.

Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind; When fortune favours, still the fair are kind.[29]

I pa.s.s each previous settlement and deed, 305 Too long for me to write, or you to read; Nor will with quaint impertinence display The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.[30]

The time approached, to church the parties went, At once with carnal and devout intent:[31] 310 Forth came the priest, and bade th' obedient wife Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life: Then prayed the pow'rs the fruitful bed to bless, And made all sure enough with holiness.

And now the palace-gates are opened wide, } 315 The guests appear in order, side by side, } And placed in state, the bridegroom and the bride.[32] } The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around, And the shrill trumpets mix their silver sound; The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring, 320 These touch the vocal stops, and those the trembling string.

Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre, Nor Joab the sounding clarion could inspire, Nor fierce Theodomas,[33] whose sprightly strain Could swell the soul to rage, and fire the martial train. 325 Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace, (So poets sing) was present on the place: And lovely Venus, G.o.ddess of delight, } Shook high her flaming torch in open sight, } And danced around, and smiled on ev'ry knight: } 330 Pleased her best servant would his courage try, No less in wedlock, than in liberty.

Full many an age old Hymen had not spied So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride.

Ye bards! renowned among the tuneful throng 335 For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song, Think not your softest numbers can display The matchless glories of this blissful day; The joys are such, as far transcend your rage, When tender youth has wedded stooping age. 340 The beauteous dame sate smiling at the board, And darted am'rous glances at her lord.

Not Hester's self, whose charms the Hebrews sing, E'er looked so lovely on her Persian king: Bright as the rising sun, in summer's day, 345 And fresh and blooming as the month of May!

The joyful knight surveyed her by his side, Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride; Still as his mind revolved with vast delight Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night, 350 Restless he sate, invoking ev'ry pow'r To speed his bliss, and haste the happy hour.

Mean time the vig'rous dancers beat the ground, And songs were sung, and flowing bowls went round.

With od'rous spices they perfumed the place, 355 And mirth and pleasure shone in ev'ry face.

Damian alone, of all the menial train, Sad in the midst of triumphs, sighed for pain; Damian alone, the knight's obsequious squire, Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire. 360 His lovely mistress all his soul possest, He looked, he languished, and could take no rest: His task performed, he sadly went his way, Fell on his bed, and loathed the light of day.

There let him lie; till his relenting dame 365 Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.

The weary sun, as learned poets write, Forsook th' horizon, and rolled down the light; While glitt'ring stars his absent beams supply, And night's dark mantle overspread the sky. 370 Then rose the guests; and as the time required, Each paid his thanks, and decently retired.

The foe once gone, our knight prepared t' undress, So keen he was, and eager to possess: But first thought fit th' a.s.sistance to receive, 375 Which grave physicians scruple not to give; Satyrion near, with hot eringos stood, Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood, Whose use old bards describe in luscious rhymes, And critics learn'd explain to modern times. 380 By this the sheets were spread, the bride undressed, The room was sprinkled, and the bed was blessed.[34]

What next ensued beseems not me to say;[35]

'Tis sung, he laboured till the dawning day, Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart so light, } 385 As all were nothing he had done by night; } And sipped his cordial as he sat upright. } He kissed his balmy spouse with wanton play, And feebly sung a l.u.s.ty roundelay;[36]

Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast; 390 For ev'ry labour must have rest at last.

But anxious cares the pensive squire oppressed, Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forsook his breast; The raging flames that in his bosom dwell, He wanted art to hide, and means to tell. 395 Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray, Composed a sonnet to the lovely May; Which writ and folded with the nicest art, He wrapped in silk, and laid upon his heart.

When now the fourth revolving day was run, 400 ('Twas June, and Cancer had received the sun) Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride, The good old knight moved slowly by her side.

High ma.s.s was sung; they feasted in the hall;[37]

The servants round stood ready at their call. 405 The squire alone was absent from the board, And much his sickness grieved his worthy lord, Who prayed his spouse, attended with her train, To visit Damian, and divert his pain.[38]

Th' obliging dames obeyed with one consent; 410 They left the hall, and to his lodging went.

The female tribe surround him as he lay, And close beside him sat the gentle May: Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly drew A heaving sigh,[39] and cast a mournful view! 415 Then gave his bill, and bribed the pow'rs divine, With secret vows, to favour his design.[40]

Who studies now but discontented May?

On her soft couch uneasily she lay: The lumpish husband snored away the night, 420 Till coughs awaked him near the morning light.

What then he did, I'll not presume to tell, Nor if she thought herself in heav'n or h.e.l.l: Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay, Till the bell tolled, and all arose to pray. 425 Were it by forceful destiny decreed, Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed; Or that some star, with aspect kind to love, Shed its selectest influence from above; Whatever was the cause, the tender dame 430 Felt the first motions of an infant flame; Received th' impressions of the love-sick squire, And wasted in the soft infectious fire.

Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move Your gentle minds to pity those who love! 435 Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been found, The poor adorer sure had hanged, or drowned: But she, your s.e.x's mirrour, free from pride, Was much too meek to prove a homicide.[41]

But to my tale: Some sages[42] have defined 440 Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of human-kind: Our knight (who studied much, we may suppose) Derived his high philosophy from those; For, like a prince, he bore the vast expense Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: 445 His house was stately, his retinue gay, Large was his train, and gorgeous his array.

His s.p.a.cious garden made to yield to none, Was compa.s.sed round with walls of solid stone; Priapus could not half describe the grace 450 (Though G.o.d of gardens) of this charming place: A place to tire the rambling wits of France In long descriptions, and exceed romance: Enough to shame the gentlest bard that sings Of painted meadows, and of purling springs.[43] 455 Full in the centre of the flow'ry ground, } A crystal fountain spread its streams around, } The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crowned: } About this spring, if ancient fame say true, The dapper elves their moonlight sports pursue: 460 Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen,[44]

In circling dances gambolled on the green, While tuneful sprites a merry concert made, And airy music warbled through the shade.

Hither the n.o.ble knight would oft repair, 465 (His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care) For this he held it dear, and always bore The silver key that locked the garden door.

To this sweet place in summer's sultry heat, He used from noise and bus'ness to retreat; 470 And here in dalliance spend the live-long day, _Solus c.u.m sola_, with his sprightly May.

For whate'er work was undischarged a-bed, The duteous knight in this fair garden sped.

[45]But ah! what mortal lives of bliss secure, 475 How short a s.p.a.ce our worldly joys endure!

O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous kind, But faithless still, and way'ring as the wind!

O painted monster, formed mankind to cheat, With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit! 480 This rich, this am'rous, venerable knight, Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight, Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to grief, And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.[46]