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«The Battle of the Books and Other Short Pieces Contents: Preface I. THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS II. A MEDITATION UPON A BROOMSTICK. III. PREDICTIONS FOR ...»

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This said, she plucks in heaven's high bowers A sprig of Amaranthine flowers, In nectar thrice infuses bays,

Three times refined in Titan's rays:

Then calls the Graces to her aid, And sprinkles thrice the now-born maid.

From whence the tender skin assumes A sweetness above all perfumes;

From whence a cleanliness remains, Incapable of outward stains;

From whence that decency of mind, So lovely in a female kind.

Where not one careless thought intrudes Less modest than the speech of prudes;

Where never blush was called in aid, The spurious virtue in a maid, A virtue but at second-hand;

They blush because they understand.

The Graces next would act their part, And show but little of their art;

Their work was half already done, The child with native beauty shone,

The outward form no help required:

Each breathing on her thrice, inspired That gentle, soft, engaging air Which in old times adorned the fair, And said, "Vanessa be the name By which thou shalt be known to fame;

Vanessa, by the gods enrolled:

Her name on earth - shall not be told."

But still the work was not complete,

When Venus thought on a deceit:

Drawn by her doves, away she flies,

And finds out Pallas in the skies:

Dear Pallas, I have been this morn

To see a lovely infant born:

A boy in yonder isle below, So like my own without his bow, By beauty could your heart be won, You'd swear it is Apollo's son;

But it shall ne'er be said, a child So hopeful has by me been spoiled;

I have enough besides to spare, And give him wholly to your care.

Wisdom's above suspecting wiles;

The queen of learning gravely smiles, Down from Olympus comes with joy, Mistakes Vanessa for a boy;

Then sows within her tender mind Seeds long unknown to womankind;

For manly bosoms chiefly fit, The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit, Her soul was suddenly endued With justice, truth, and fortitude;

With honour, which no breath can stain,

Which malice must attack in vain:

With open heart and bounteous hand:

But Pallas here was at a stand;

She know in our degenerate days Bare virtue could not live on praise,

That meat must be with money bought:

She therefore, upon second thought, Infused yet as it were by stealth,

Some small regard for state and wealth:

Of which as she grew up there stayed

A tincture in the prudent maid:

She managed her estate with care, Yet liked three footmen to her chair, But lest he should neglect his studies Like a young heir, the thrifty goddess (For fear young master should be spoiled) Would use him like a younger child;

And, after long computing, found 'Twould come to just five thousand pound.

The Queen of Love was pleased and proud To we Vanessa thus endowed;

She doubted not but such a dame Through every breast would dart a flame;

That every rich and lordly swain With pride would drag about her chain;

That scholars would forsake their books

To study bright Vanessa's looks:

As she advanced that womankind Would by her model form their mind, And all their conduct would be tried By her, as an unerring guide.

Offending daughters oft would hear

Vanessa's praise rung in their ear:

Miss Betty, when she does a fault, Lets fall her knife, or spills the salt, Will thus be by her mother chid, "'Tis what Vanessa never did."

Thus by the nymphs and swains adored, My power shall be again restored, And happy lovers bless my reign So Venus hoped, but hoped in vain.

For when in time the martial maid Found out the trick that Venus played, She shakes her helm, she knits her brows, And fired with indignation, vows To-morrow, ere the setting sun, She'd all undo that she had done.

But in the poets we may find A wholesome law, time out of mind, Had been confirmed by Fate's decree;

That gods, of whatso'er degree, Resume not what themselves have given, Or any brother-god in Heaven;

Which keeps the peace among the gods, Or they must always be at odds.

And Pallas, if she broke the laws, Must yield her foe the stronger cause;

A shame to one so much adored For Wisdom, at Jove's council-board.

Besides, she feared the queen of love Would meet with better friends above.

And though she must with grief reflect To see a mortal virgin deck'd With graces hitherto unknown To female breasts, except her own, Yet she would 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 foe's conclusions were not sound, From premises erroneous brought, And therefore the deduction's nought, And must have contrary effects To what her treacherous foe expects.

In proper season Pallas meets The queen of love, whom thus she greets (For Gods, we are by Homer told, Can in celestial language scold), "Perfidious Goddess! but in vain You formed this project in your brain, A project for thy talents fit, With much deceit, and little wit;

Thou hast, as thou shalt quickly see, Deceived thyself instead of me;





For how can heavenly wisdom prove An instrument to earthly love?

Know'st thou not yet that men commence Thy votaries, for want of sense?

Nor shall Vanessa be the theme To manage thy abortive scheme;

She'll prove the greatest of thy foes, And yet I scorn to interpose, But using neither skill nor force, Leave all things to their natural course."

The goddess thus pronounced her doom, When, lo, Vanessa in her bloom, Advanced like Atalanta's star,

But rarely seen, and seen from far:

In a new world with caution stepped, Watched all the company she kept, Well knowing from the books she read What dangerous paths young virgins tread;

Would seldom at the park appear, Nor saw the play-house twice a year;

Yet not incurious, was inclined To know the converse of mankind.

First issued from perfumers' shops A crowd of fashionable fops;

They liked her how she liked the play?

Then told the tattle of the day, A duel fought last night at two About a lady - you know who;

Mentioned a new Italian, come Either from Muscovy or Rome;

Gave hints of who and who's together;

Then fell to talking of the weather:

Last night was so extremely fine, The ladies walked till after nine.

Then in soft voice, and speech absurd, With nonsense every second word, With fustian from exploded plays, They celebrate her beauty's praise, Run o'er their cant of stupid lies, And tell the murders of her eyes.

With silent scorn Vanessa sat, Scarce list'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 said, she valued nothing less Than titles, figure, shape, and dress;

That merit should be chiefly placed In judgment, knowledge, wit, and taste;

And these, she offered to dispute,

Alone distinguished man from brute:

That present times have no pretence To virtue, in the noble sense By Greeks and Romans understood, To perish for our country's good.

She named the ancient heroes round, Explained for what they were renowned;

Then spoke with censure, or applause, Of foreign customs, rites, and laws;

Through nature and through art she ranged,

And gracefully her subject changed:

In vain; her hearers had no share In all she spoke, except to stare.

Their judgment was upon the whole,

- That lady is the dullest soul Then tipped their forehead in a jeer, As who should say - she wants it here;

She may be handsome, young, and rich, But none will burn her for a witch.

A party next of glittering dames, From round the purlieus of St. James, Came early, out of pure goodwill, To see the girl in deshabille.

Their clamour 'lighting from their chairs, Grew louder, all the way up stairs;

At entrance loudest, where they found The room with volumes littered round, Vanessa held Montaigne, and read,

Whilst Mrs. Susan combed her head:

They called for tea and chocolate, And fell into their usual chat, Discoursing with important face,

On ribbons, fans, and gloves, and lace:

Showed patterns just from India brought, And gravely asked her what she thought, Whether the red or green were best, And what they cost? Vanessa guessed, As came into her fancy first, Named half the rates, and liked the worst.

To scandal next - What awkward thing Was that, last Sunday, in the ring?

I'm sorry Mopsa breaks so fast;

I said 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 married to the Tunbridge beau, I saw coquetting t'other night In public with that odious knight.

They rallied next Vanessa's dress;

That gown was made for old Queen Bess.

Dear madam, let me set your head;

Don't you intend to put on red?

A petticoat without a hoop!

Sure, you are not ashamed to stoop;

With handsome garters at your knees, No matter what a fellow sees.

Filled with disdain, with rage inflamed, Both of herself and sex ashamed, The nymph stood silent out of spite, Nor would vouchsafe to set them right.

Away the fair detractors went, And gave, by turns, their censures vent.

She's not so handsome in my eyes:

For wit, I wonder where it lies.

She's fair and clean, and that's the most;

But why proclaim her for a toast?

A baby face, no life, no airs, But what she learnt at country fairs.

Scarce knows what difference is between Rich Flanders lace, and Colberteen.

I'll undertake my little Nancy, In flounces has a better fancy.

With all her wit, I would not ask Her judgment, how to buy a mask.

We begged her but to patch her face, She never hit one proper place;

Which every girl at five years old Can do as soon as she is told.

I own, that out-of-fashion stuff Becomes the creature well enough.

The girl might pass, if we could get her To know the world a little better.

(TO KNOW THE WORLD! a modern phrase For visits, ombre, balls, and plays.) Thus, to the world's perpetual shame, The queen of beauty lost her aim, Too late with grief she understood Pallas had done more harm than good;

For great examples are but vain, Where ignorance begets disdain.

Both sexes, armed with guilt and spite, Against Vanessa's power unite;

To copy her few nymphs aspired;

Her virtues fewer swains admired;

So stars, beyond a certain height, Give mortals neither heat nor light.

Yet some of either sex, endowed With gifts superior to the crowd, With virtue, knowledge, taste, and wit, She condescended to admit;

With pleasing arts she could reduce Men's talents to their proper use;

And with address each genius hold To that wherein it most excelled;

Thus making others' wisdom known, Could please them and improve her own.

A modest youth said something new, She placed it in the strongest view.

All humble worth she strove to raise;

Would not be praised, yet loved to praise.

The learned met with free approach, Although they came not in a coach.

Some clergy too she would allow, Nor quarreled at their awkward bow.

But this was for Cadenus' sake;

A gownman of a different make.

Whom Pallas, once Vanessa's tutor, Had fixed on for her coadjutor.

But Cupid, full of mischief, longs To vindicate his mother's wrongs.

On Pallas all attempts are vain;

One way he knows to give her pain;

Vows on Vanessa's heart to take Due vengeance, for her patron's sake.

Those early seeds by Venus sown, In spite of Pallas, now were grown;

And Cupid hoped they would improve By time, and ripen into love.

The boy made use of all his craft, In vain discharging many a shaft, Pointed at colonels, lords, and beaux;

Cadenus warded off the blows, For placing still some book betwixt, The darts were in the cover fixed, Or often blunted and recoiled, On Plutarch's morals struck, were spoiled.

The queen of wisdom could foresee, But not prevent the Fates decree;

And human caution tries in vain To break that adamantine chain.

Vanessa, though by Pallas taught, By love invulnerable thought, Searching in books for wisdom's aid, Was, in the very search, betrayed.

Cupid, though all his darts were lost, Yet still resolved to spare no cost;

He could not answer to his fame The triumphs of that stubborn dame, A nymph so hard to be subdued, Who neither was coquette nor prude.

I find, says he, she wants a doctor,

Both to adore her, and instruct her:

I'll give her what she most admires, Among those venerable sires.

Cadenus is a subject fit, Grown old in politics and wit;

Caressed by Ministers of State, Of half mankind the dread and hate.

Whate'er vexations love attend, She need no rivals apprehend Her sex, with universal voice, Must laugh at her capricious choice.

Cadenus many things had writ, Vanessa much esteemed his wit, And called for his poetic works!

Meantime the boy in secret lurks.

And while the book was in her hand, The urchin from his private stand Took aim, and shot with all his strength A dart of such prodigious length, It pierced the feeble volume through, And deep transfixed her bosom too.

Some lines, more moving than the rest, Struck to the point that pierced her breast;

And, borne directly to the heart, With pains unknown, increased her smart.

Vanessa, not in years a score, Dreams of a gown of forty-four;

Imaginary charms can find, In eyes with reading almost blind;

Cadenus now no more appears Declined in health, advanced in years.

She fancies music in his tongue, Nor farther looks, but thinks him young.

What mariner is not afraid To venture in a ship decayed?

What planter will attempt to yoke A sapling with a falling oak?



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