Art of Love

Amongst th' immortal drolls a standing jest.

How, Vulcan two transgressing lovers caught

And ev'ry god a pleas'd spectator brought.

Great Mars for Venus felt a guilty flame,

Neglected war, and own'd a lover's name,

To his desires the queen of love inclin'd;

No nymph in heav'n's so willing, none so kind.

Oft the lascivious fair, with scornful pride,

Would Vulcan's foot and sooty hands deride;

Yet both with decency their passion bore,

And modestly conceal'd the close amour,

But by the sun betray'd in their embrace,

(For what escapes the sun's observing rays?)

He told th' affronted god of his disgrace.

Ah foolish sun! and much unskill'd in love,

Thou hast an ill example set above!

Never a fair offending nymph betray,

She'll gratefully oblige you ev'ry way:

The crafty spouse around his bed prepares

Nets that deceive the eye, and secret snares:

A journey feigns, the impatient lovers met,

And naked were expos'd in Vulcan's net.

The gods deride the criminals in chains,

And scarce from tears the queen of love refrains;

Nor could her hands conceal her guilty face,

She wants that cover for another place.

To burly Mars a gay spectator said,

" Why so uneasy in that envied bed?

On me transfer your chains; I'll freely come

For your release, and suffer in your room."

At length, kind Neptune, freed by thy desires,

Mars goes for Crete, to Paphos she retires,

Their loves augmented with revengeful fires;

Now conversant with infamy and shame,

They set no bounds to their licentious flame.

But honest Vulcan, what was thy pretence,

To act so much unlike a god of sense?

They sin in public, you the shame repent,

Convinc'd that love increase with punishment.

Tho' in your pow'r, a rival ne'er expose,

Never his intercepted joys disclose:

This I command, Venus commands the same,

Who hates the snares she once sustain'd with shame.

What impious wretch will Ceres' rites expose,

Or Juno's solemn mysteries disclose!

His witty torments Tantalus deserves,

That thirsts in waves and viewing banquets starves.

But Venus most in secresy delights:

Away, ye babblers, from her silent rites!

No pomp her mysteries attend, no noise!

No sounding brass proclaims the latent joys!

With folded arms the happy pair possess,

Nor should the fond betraying tongue confess

Those raptures, which no language can express.

When naked Venus casts her robes aside,

The parts obscene her hands extended hide;

No girl on propagating beasts will gaze,

But hangs her head, and turns away her face.

We darken'd beds and doors for love provide;

What nature cannot, decent habit hide.

Love darkens courts, at most a glimm'ring light,

To raise our joys, and just oblige the sight.

Ere happy men beneath the roof were laid,

When oaks provided them with food and shade,

Some gloomy cave receiv'd the wanton pair;

For light too modest, and unshaded air!

From public view they decently retir'd,

And secretly perform'd what love inspir'd.

Now scarce a modish fop about the town,

But boasts with whom, how oft, and where 'twas done;

They taste no pleasure, relish no delight,

Till they recount what pass'd the happy night.

But men of honour always thought is base,

To prostitute each kinder nymph's embrace:

To blast her fame, and vainly hurt his own,

And furnish scandal for a lewd lampoon.

And here I must some guilty arts excuse,

And disingenuous shifts that lovers use,

To wrong the chaste and innocent abuse.

When long repuls'd they find their courtship vain,

Her character with infamy they stain;

Denied her person they debauch her fame,

And brand her innocence with public shame.

Go, jealous fool, the injur'd beauty guard,

Let ev'ry door be lock'd, and window barr'd!

The suff'ring nymph remains expos'd to wrong,

Her name's a prostitute to ev'ry tongue;

For malice with joy the lie receive,

Report, and what it wishes true, believe.

With care conceal whatever defects you find,

To all her faults seem like a lover blind.

Naked Andromeda when Perseus view'd,

He saw her faults, but yet pronounc'd them good.

Andromache was tall, yet some report

Her Hector was so blind he thought her short.

At first what's nauseous lessens by degrees;

Young loves are nice, and difficult to please.

The infant plant that bears a tender rind,

Reels to and fro with ev'ry breath of wind;

But shooting upward to a tree at last,