Yet fhe wou'd act, as best became
A Goddess of unspotted Fame;
She knew by Augury divine,
Venus would fail in her Design:
She studied well the Point, and found
Her Foes Conclufions were not found
From Premiffes erroneous brought,
And therefore the Deduction's nought;
And must have contrary Effects
To what her treach'rous Foe expects.
IN proper Seafon Pallas meets
The Queen of Love, whom thus fhe greets:
(For Gods, we are by Homer told,
Can in Celestial Language fcold)
Perfidious Goddess! but in vain
You form'd this Project in your Brain;
A Project for thy Talents fit,
With much Deceit, and little Wit:
Thou haft, as thou fhalt quickly fee,
Deceiv'd thy felf, instead of me;
For how can heav'nly Wisdom prove
An Inftrument to earthly Love?
Know'st thou not yet, that Men commence
Thy Votaries for want of Sense?
Nor fhall Vanessa be the Theme
To manage thy abortive Scheme:
She'll prove the greatest of thy Foes
And yet I fcorn to interpose;
But using neither Skill, nor Force,
Leave all Things to their natʼral Course.
THE Goddess thus pronounc'd her Doom: When, lo! Vanessa in her Bloom, Advanc'd like Atalanta's Star, But rarely feen, and feen from far: In a new World with Caution ftept, Watch'd all the Company fhe kept, Well knowing from the Books she read What dang rous Paths young Virgins tread: Would feldom at the Park appear, Nor faw the Play-house twice a Year; Yet, not incurious, was inclin'd To know the Converfe of Mankind.
FIRST iffu'd from Perfumers Shops,
A Croud of fashionable Fops;
They afk'd her, how fhe lik'd the Play;
Then told the Tattle of the Day;
A Duel fought laft Night at Two,
About a Lady-you know who:
Mention'd a new Italian, come
Either from Muscovy or Rome;
Gave Hints of who and who's together;
Then fell to talking of the Weather:
Laft Night was fo extremely fine,
The Ladies walk'd till after Nine.
Then in foft Voice and Speech abfurd,
With Nonsense ev'ry second Word,
With Fustian from exploded Plays,
They celebrate her Beauty's Praise ;
Run o'er their Cant of ftupid Lyes,
And tell the Murders of her Eyes.
WITH filent Scorn Vanessa fat,
Scarce lift'ning to their idle Chat;
Further than sometimes by a Frown,
When they grew pert, to pull them down.
At last she spitefully was bent
To try their Wisdom's full Extent;
And faid, fhe valu'd nothing less
Than Titles, Figure, Shape, and Dress:
That, Merit fhould be chiefly plac'd
In Judgment, Knowledge, Wit, and Tafte:
And thefe, fhe offer'd to difpute,
Alone distinguish'd Man from Brute:
That, prefent Times have no Pretence
To Virtue, in the noblest Sense,
By Greeks and Romans understood,
To perish for our Country's Good,
She nam❜d the antient Heroes round,
Explain'd for what they were renown'd:
Then spoke with Cenfure, or Applause,
Of foreign Customs, Rites, and Laws.
Thro' Nature, and thro' Art fhe rang'd,
And gracefully her Subject chang'd :
In vain Her Hearers had no Share
In all she spoke, except to stare.
Their Judgment was upon the Whole,
That Lady is the dulleft Soul-
Then tipt their Forehead in a Jeer,
As who fhould fay-fhe wants it here;
She may be handfome, young, and rich,
But none will burn her for a Witch.
A PARTY next of glitt'ring Dames,
From round the Purlieus of St. James,
Came early, out of pure good Will,
To fee the Girl in Dishabille,
Their Clamour 'lighting from their Chairs,
Grew louder, all the Way up Stairs;
At Entrance loudeft; where they found
The Room with Volumes litter'd round.
Vanessa held Montaigne, and read,
Whilft Mrs. Sufan comb'd her Head:
They call'd for Tea and Chocolate,
And fell into their ufual Chat;
Difcourfing with important Face,
On Ribbons, Fans, and Gloves, and Lace;
Shew'd Patterns juft from India brought,
And gravely afk'd her what the thought;
Whether the Red or Green were beft,
And what they coft? Vanessa guefs'd,
As came into her Fancy first,
Nam'd half the Rates, and lik'd the worft.
To Scandal next-What aukward Thing
Was that, laft Sunday in the Ring?
-I'm forry Mopfa breaks so fast;
I faid her Face would never last.
Corinna, with that youthful Air,
Is thirty, and a Bit to spare:
Her Fondness for a certain Earl
Began, when I was but a Girl.
Phyllis, who but a Month ago
Was marry'd to the Tunbridge Beau,
I saw coquetting t'other Night,
In Publick with that odious Knight.
THEY rally'd next Vaneffa's Drefs;
That Gown was made for old Queen Befs.
Dear Madam, let me fet your Head:
Don't you intend to put on Red?
A Petticoat without a Hoop!
Sure, you are not afham'd to stoop;
With handfome Garters at your Knees,
No Matter what a Fellow fees.
FILL'D with Difdain, with Rage inflam'd,
Both of her felf and Sex asham'd,
The Nymph stood filent out of Spight,
Nor would vouchfafe to fet them right.
Away the fair Detractors went,
And gave, by Turns, their Cenfures Vent.
She's not fo handsome in my Eyes;
For Wit, I wonder where it lies.
She's fair and clean, and that's the moft;
But why proclaim her for a Toaft?
A Baby Face, no Life, nor Airs,
But what she learnt at Country Fairs;
Scarce knows what Diff'rence is between
Rich Flanders Lace, and Colberteen,
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