Says the yellow hair’d laddie, to Luna so bright
How comes it, our Mars is so favor’d a wight
That the Attics are still to be held on his night?
His deeds, or his trophies, can ne’er be deem’d fitting
For fair ladies’ ears, who so silently sitting
For love of the Muses, leave sewing and knitting;
’Tis high time I protest that your claims you assert
Let them know ’tis your wish — Come my girl be alert —
Says Luna, with one they are afraid to be found
For ’tis often asserted, when I appear round
That the heads of your poets are not very sound!
So I’ll not interfere — for I very well know
They have settled their plan — and friend Mars is their beau,
Yet never-the-less I must think my good Sir
If Hermes the gay were to make a great stir
They might listen to him — with very great reason;
He also as being a thievish divinity
Might steal for Young Poets some scraps of Latinity.
His vigilance too, an assistance might prove
To find out who is who — and then throw down the glove —
At this speech, they all shouted, — when good Father Jove
Shrugging up his broad shoulders — his eyes beaming Love
Cries out, daughter Venus pray how haps it that you
Lay no claim to your Night with these Mortals below?
For such clever, such Beautiful Damsels attend,
That believe me, sometimes I’ve a Mind to descend
To behold and admire, but my consequence hingers,
Nor would I, that a hair of their heads became Cinders;
And Pallas advises me here to remain —
From their mischievous Tricks, they would never refrain
And to outwit me now, would my Character stain —
But dear Venus, thou Goddess so fair and so free,
Go among them, incognito! for then you will see
What’s the mischief on foot — for between you and me
I shrewdly suspect that at present they have got
Of a Gnome, Sylph, and Nereid, some terrible Plot;
And to bring it to bear, they won’t mind what they do,
Tho’ the Damsel concern’d, is a favorite too;
But the care shall be mine, to frustrate their intentions,
I shall sprinkle some Powder shall spoil their Inventions;
No Gnome shall she wed, and be dragg’d underneath
Depriv’d of Fresh Air, and scarce able to Breathe,
Nor shall she be hurried to Neren’s cold Bowers,
But remain with her Friends, to enliven their hours,
Till that youth shall arrive, who best Merits — but hush!
Lest by naming him now, I should raise up a blush
On the fair Maiden’s cheek — so dear Venus descend
To protect this young virgin, and prove her true friend —
Sage Venus — my care she shall be while on Earth,
And ere I return, I will cause them some Mirth;
For whilst I remain in fair Ellen’s gay Court
Where the young Men and Maidens so frequent resort,
I’m resolved spite of Pallas to show them some sport
And by writings, and saying, and some merry looks
I’ll distract e’en the gravest awhile from his Books —
Now Old Saturn the Sly, from his corner remote,
Cried suppose I disguise myself in my Great Coat
And descend ’mong these Girls? — for with little exertion
All grave as I seem, I would find them diversion
For like Até of old, I would throw down an apple
To possess it from me would occasion a Grapple
A prize it might be, for their wit or their beauty
But Pallas says leave out both Prudence and duty.
No, no, no, cried the Goddess, quite in a rage,
Such a gloomy old Fellow! — says Venus, I’d wage
My Son’s Quiver, you soon wou’d be sent to the Pound,
You had best mind your bus’ness, and keep in your Round
Much Hubbub now followed, ’bout who should descend,
When good Father Jove, their loud quarrels to end,
And the better at once to gnash disputation,
Resolved that each Planet remain in its station;
Save Hermes alone — who so oft had been down
No stranger was he to the Lasses in Town.
Said Momus the merry — let me join the Fun,
Oh, Oh, shouted all, they’ve a Mime of their own —
Jove now shook his dark Locks, to establish his Fiat!
Gods and Goddesses too, in a moment were quiet —
Then to Hermes they whisper’d — should you be accepted
We all beg and intreat we may not be neglected;
But receive every month a good Packet of News —
And remember us kindly to each Sister Muse.