Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies,
And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.

Those play the scholars who can't play the men,
And use that weapon which they have, their pen:
When old, and past the relish of delight,
Then down they sit, and in their dotage write
That not one woman keeps her marriage-vow.
(This by the way, but to my purpose now.)

It chanc'd my husband, on a winter's night,
Read in this book aloud with strange delight,
How the first female (as the Scriptures show)
Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe;
How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire
Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd shirt, and set on fire;
How curs'd Eriphyle her lord betray'd,
And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid;

But what most pleas'd him was the Cretan dame And husband-bull-Oh, monstrous! fie, for

shame!

He had by heart the whole detail of woe
Xantippe made her good man undergo;
How oft she scolded in a day he knew,
How many pisspots on the sage she threw-
Who took it patiently, and wip'd his head:
'Rain follows thunder,' that was all he said.

He read how Arius to his friend complain'd
A fatal tree was growing in his land,
On which three wives successively had twin'd
A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind.

6 Where grows this plant,' replied the friend,' 'oh! where?

For better fruit did never orchard bear:
Give me some slip of this most blissful tree,
And in my garden planted it shall be.'

Then how two wives their lords' destruction

prove,

Thro' hatred one, and one thro' too much love;
That for her husband mix'd a poisonous draught,
And this for lust an amorous philtre bought;
The nimble juice soon seiz'd his giddy head,
Frantic at night, and in the morning dead.

How some with swords their sleeping lords
have slain,

And some have hammer'd nails into their brain, And some have drench'd them with a deadly potion: All this he read, and read with great devotion.

Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, and frown'd;

But when no end of these vile tales I found,
When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again,
And half the night was thus consum'd in vain,
Provok'd to vengeance, three large leaves I tore,
And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor.
With that my husband in a fury rose,
And down he settled me with hearty blows.
I groan'd, and lay extended on my side;
'Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth,' I cried!
'Yet I forgive thee-take my last embrace—'
He wept, kind soul! and stoop'd to kiss my face:
I took him such a box as turn'd him blue,
Then sigh'd and cried, ‘Adieu, my dear, adieu!'

296

THE POEMS OF POPE.

But after many a hearty struggle past, I condescended to be pleas'd at last. Soon as he said, 'My mistress and my wife! Do what you list the term of all your life;' I took to heart the merits of the cause, And stood content to rule by wholesome laws; Receiv'd the reins of absolute command, With all the government of house and land, And empire o'er his tongue and o’er his hand. As for the volume that revil'd the dames, 'Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames. Now Heaven on all my husbands gone bestow Pleasures above for tortures felt below:

That rest they wish'd for grant them in the grave, And bless those souls my conduct help'd to save!

IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS.