Or the history of this author I am sorry that I can give no account. His poem of Love and Folly was published in 1749. It seemed to me to be somewhat better than that which is generally condemned to oblivion. If the extracts should appear to be tedious, the only apology I can offer is, the difficulty of making short specimens of a story at all intelligible.
ARRAIGNMENT. AND TRIAL OF CUPID.
THE Gods, in senate to debate,
And settle high affairs of state,
Where vast Olympus' summits rise,
Descended from the azure skies:
As their great sire and lord rever'd,
Their cloud-compelling Jove appear'd;
Calm in his lap the thunders lay,
The symbols of imperial sway,
While Heaven's high powers sat round his throne,
And deck'd it like a splendid zone:
There Juno and the Paphian Queen,
The Graces in their train, were seen;
Amidst her father's radiant race,
The chaste Diana took her place;
Without his helmet, sword, or car,
There frown'd the haughty God of War;
There joyous smil'd the God of Wine,
With numbers more of birth divine;
Metis, who prudent councils guides,
And o'er the letter'd world presides;
Themis, who Heaven's dread laws attends,
And Truth's deserted cause defends;
Sage Vesta, through the earth renown'd,
And Cybele with turrets crown'd;
Neptune, the Ocean's awful lord;
Pluto, by Hell's dark realms ador'd;
Pan, to whose altars shepherds bow;
Ceres, inventress of the plough;
And last sat down old gay Silenus,
With Vulcan, spouse and slave to Venus.
Grand was the pomp, for thither all
Attended on the Thunderer's call;
The heavens themselves were in a blaze
Phoebus was there, bedeck'd with rays,
Yet scarcely, though he look'd so bright,
Was seen 'midst such a flood of light,
Where each with beams celestial shone,
Beyond the splendour of the sun;
Together by great Jove conven'd,
To hear the God of Love arraign'd.
Solemn the session, high the cause,
For Love had broke through all their laws,
And made the deities obey,
As vassals, his tyrannic sway;
Enslav'd, they dragg'd his galling chain,
And mourn'd his power, but mourn'd in vain.
Kindling his flames in every breast,
He never gave th' immortals rest,
But, fond their weakness to expose,
Involv'd them in a thousand woes,
While Jove's despis'd omnipotence
Against his arts found no defence.
This haughty treatment had o'erthrown
Their empire, though it rais'd his own;
For, with his all-subduing bow,
He sunk their power and fame so low,
And, ever since his fatal birth,
Rul'd so supreme o'er heaven and earth,
That mortals now to Cupid paid
The chief oblations which they made,
And, slighting every name above,
Ador'd no other God but Love.
Besides, to men of worth and sense
His shameless conduct gave offence:
He drank, he wench'd, he gam'd, he swore,
His life with crimes was blotted o'er;
He scorn'd good Hymen's sacred ties,
And made a trade of vows and lies:
Fair Virtue's praise, and honor'd fame,
He laugh'd at as an empty name;
By which example all the nations
Lay quite expos'd to great temptations,
And, doating on their lewd amours,
Had turn'd Religion out of doors.
Silence proclaim'd, th' assessors wait,
Anxious for Love's impending fate,
When Themis, watching Dian's eyes,
Straight to th' etherial court applies,
And, like intrepid Yorke1, demands
Impartial justice at their hands;
That no mean bias warp their hearts
To Cupid's treacherous charms and arts,
While they, by long establish'd laws,
Decide the great approaching cause;
That on their votes depended all
Which they could dear or sacred call;
In heav'n their peace, on earth their fame,
Their endless glory or their shame;
That e'en their temples, priests, and power,
Hung on this one decisive hour.
Therefore, in right and truth's support,
She humbly mov'd a rule of court,
That Hermes might his pris'ner bring
Before his peers and Heav'n's high King,
The Lord High Chancellor.
To hear, by their decree, his crimes
Condemn'd to late succeeding times,
And heav'n and earth at once set free
From such a traitor's tyranny.
High Jove, who on th' imperial throne,
Sceptr❜d and thron'd, was plac'd alone,
Looks awful round th' assenting gods,
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and nods.
Straight, Hermes, at his sire's command,
His wreath'd caduceus in his hand,
From his close ward the caitiff brings,
With hands unbound, but pinion'd wings:
While at his back his bow unstrung,
Tied to his feather'd quiver hung.
By Dian's order Momus bore
The mace, and solemn stalk'd before;
When Hermes, with obeisance low,
Shew'd to the Gods their daring foe:
But such a foe, so wond'rous fair,
Each grace of Venus in his air,
So bloom'd his ever youthful years,
So moving were his silent tears,
That half heaven's powers with all their zeal
Some tender pangs began to feel,
Lest such a God, indulging all
Their pleasures, should unpity'd fall,
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