Their salted cakes on crackling flames they cast;

Then, turning back, the sacrifice they sped; The fatted oxen slew, and flay'd the dead; Chopp'd off their nervous thighs, and next prepar'd

631

T'involve the lean in cauls, and mend with lard.

Sweetbreads and collops were with skewers prick'd

About the sides, inbibing what they deck'd. The priest with holy hands was seen to tine The cloven wood and pour the ruddy wine. The youth approach'd the fire, and, as it burn'd,

On five sharp broachers rank'd, the roast they turn'd:

These morsels stay'd their stomachs; then the rest

They cut in legs and fillets for the feast; 640 Which drawn and serv'd, their hunger they appease

With sav'ry meat, and set their minds at

Meantime the goddess-born in secret pin'd:

Nor visited the camp, nor in the council join'd;

But, keeping close, his gnawing heart he fed With hopes of vengeance on the tyrant's head;

And wish'd for bloody wars and mortal wounds,

And of the Greeks oppress'd in fight to hear the dying sounds.

Now, when twelve days complete had run their race,

The gods bethought them of the cares belonging to their place.

Jove at their head ascending from the sea, A shoal of puny pow'rs attend his way. 670 Then Thetis, not unmindful of her son, Emerging from the deep, to beg her boon, Pursued their track; and, waken'd from his rest,

Before the sovereign stood a morning guest. Him in the circle, but apart, she found; The rest at awful distance stood around. She bow'd, and ere she durst her suit begin, One hand embrac'd his knees, one propp'd

his chin.

Then thus: "If I, celestial sire, in aught Have serv'd thy will, or gratified thy

thought,

680

One glimpse of glory to my issue give, Grac'd for the little time he has to live. Dishonor'd by the King of Men he stands; His rightful prize is ravish'd from his hands. But thou, O father, in my son's defense, Assume thy pow'r, assert thy providence.

Let Troy prevail, till Greece th' affront has paid

With doubled honors, and redeem'd his aid." She ceas'd, but the consid'ring god was

689

mute: Till she, resolv'd to win, renew'd her suit; Nor loos'd her hold, but forc'd him to reply: "Or grant me my petition, or deny.

Jove cannot fear: then tell me to my face That I, of all the gods, am least in grace. This I can bear." The Cloud-Compeller mourn'd,

And, sighing first, this answer he return'd: "Know'st thou what clamors will disturb my reign,

What my stunn'd ears from Juno must sustain?

In council she gives license to her tongue, Loquacious, brawling, ever in the wrong. 700 And now she will my partial pow'r upbraid, If, alienate from Greece, I give the Trojans

aid.

The consort never must the council share. One gracious word is for a wife too much: Such is a marriage vow, and Jove's own faith is such."

Then thus the sire of gods, and men below:

"What I have hidden, hope not thou to know.

Ev'n goddesses are women; and no wife Has pow'r to regulate her husband's life: Counsel she may; and I will give thy ear The knowledge first, of what is fit to hear. What I transact with others, or alone, Beware to learn; nor press too near the throne."

740

This heard, the imperious queen sate mute with fear,

Nor further durst incense the gloomy Thunderer.

Silence was in the court at this rebuke, Nor could the gods abash'd sustain their sov'reign's look.

The limping smith observ'd the sadden'd feast,

And hopping here and there (himself a jest)

769

Put in his word, that neither might offend; To Jove obsequious, yet his mother's friend: "What end in heav'n will be of civil war, If gods of pleasure will for mortals jar? Such discord but disturbs our jovial feast; One grain of bad embitters all the best. Mother, tho' wise yourself, my counsel weigh;

'Tis much unsafe my sire to disobey. Not only you provoke him to your cost, But mirth is marr'd, and the good cheer is lost.

Tempt not his heavy hand, for he has pow'r

780

To throw you headlong from his heav'nly tow'r.

But one submissive word, which you let fall,

Will make him in good humor with us all."

He said no more, but crown'd a bowl, unbid;

The laughing nectar overlook'd the lid: Then put it to her hand, and thus pursued: "This cursed quarrel be no more renew'd. Be, as becomes a wife, obedient still; Tho' griev'd, yet subject to her husband's will.

THERE liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, A widow somewhat old, and very poor: Deep in a dell her cottage lonely stood, Well thatch'd, and under covert of a wood.

This dowager, on whom my tale I found, Since last she laid her husband in the ground,

A simple sober life in patience led,
And had but just enough to buy her bread:
But huswifing the little Heav'n had lent,
She duly paid a groat for quarter rent; 10
And pinch'd her belly, with her daughters
two,

To bring the year about with much ado.

The cattle in her homestead were three

For no delicious morsel pass'd her throat;
According to her cloth she cut her coat. 20
No poynant sauce she knew, no costly treat;
Her hunger gave a relish to her meat:
A sparing diet did her health assure;
Or sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
Before the day was done, her work she
sped,

And never went by candlelight to bed.
With exercise she sweat ill humors out;
Her dancing was not hinder'd by the gout.
Her poverty was glad, her heart content,
Nor knew she what the spleen or vapors

Than all the Ptolemies had done before: When incest is for int'rest of a nation, "T is made no sin by holy dispensation. Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone,

Which by their common ugliness are known.
But passing this as from our tale apart,
Dame Partlet was the sovereign of his
heart;

Ardent in love, outrageous in his play,
He feather'd her a hundred times a day: 70
And she, that was not only passing fair,
But was withal discreet and debonair,
Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fulfil,
Tho' loth; and let him work his wicked will:
At board and bed was affable and kind,
According as their marriage vow did bind,
And as the Church's precept had enjoin'd;
Ev'n since she was a sennight old, they

Your pain, and make me partner of your

care.

You groan, sir, ever since the morning light, As something had disturb'd your noble sprite.'

"And, madam, well I might," said Chanticleer,

"Never was Shrovetide cock in such a fear.
Ev'n still I run all over in a sweat,
My princely senses not recover'd yet.
For such a dream I had of dire portent,
That much I fear my body will be shent: 110
It bodes I shall have wars and woful strife,
Or in a loathsome dungeon end my life.
Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled
breast,

That in our yard I saw a murd'rous beast,
That on my body would have made arrest.
With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his fellow;
His color was betwixt a red and yellow:
Tipp'd was his tail, and both his pricking

That yet methinks I see him with surprise. Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat,

And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat." "Now fie for shame," quoth she, “by heav'n above,

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Thou hast for ever lost thy lady's love;
No woman can endure a recreant knight;
He must be bold by day, and free by night.
Our sex desires a husband or a friend,
Who can our honor and his own defend;
Wise, hardy, secret, lib'ral of his purse;
A fool is nauseous, but a coward worse:
No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight.
How dar'st thou talk of love, and dar'st not
fight?

How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art afeard?

Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard? "If aught from fearful dreams may be divin'd,

140

They signify a cock of dunghill kind.
All dreams, as in old Galen I have read,
Are from repletion and complexion bred;
From rising fumes of indigested food,
And noxious humors that infect the blood:

grow,)

On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly
Of yellow choler, and of melancholy:
You must both purge and vomit; but obey,
And for the love of heav'n make no delay.
Since hot and dry in your complexion join,
Beware the sun when in a vernal sign;
For when he mounts exalted in the Ram,
If then he finds your body in a flame,
Replete with choler, I dare lay a groat,
A tertian ague is at least your lot.
Perhaps a fever (which the gods forefend !)
May bring your youth to some untimely end.
And therefore, sir, as you desire to live,

180