XVI.

"By thee abandon'd, must I bend "Beneath thy nurse's scorn?

"No; live with me thyself, and send "To her thy youngest born.

XVII.

"Let not her mud-built walls thy stay "Before my tow'rs invite;

"Do not, beyond my verdure gay, "In her brown heaths delight.

XVIII.

"Do not her dingy streams prefer "To all my rivers clear; "Good Heavens! looks poverty in her “Than wealth in me more fair?"

XIX.

The judge here lets his fury out,
Unable to contain ;

He frowns, he rolls his eyes about;
And to his wife began:

XX.

“If she be poor, I'll make her rich;
"Thy treasure she shall hold :
"Thou art a low, mechanic b-ch,

"Besides a cursed scold.

XXI.

66

My nurse is of imperial race,

66

By trade was never stain❜d : "What thou dost boast of is disgrace:

"Nurse, thou thy cause hast gain'd.”

XXII.

Polite and candid, thus the judge:
His creatures watch his call,
To raise (alas!) this dirty drudge
On his fair Consort's fall.

XXIII.

Who first obeys th' unjust decree,
Regardless of his fame,

To spoil and rob with cruel glee
That lovely island-dame ?

XXIV.

Hard by, a ready wight, behold
Aspiring, rash, and wild;

Of parts too keen to be controll'd
By wisdom's dictates mild.

XXV.

Still from the midnight-goblet hot,
He fires his turgid brain,

With jarring schemes, from wine begot,
To ravage land and main.

XXVI.

With these wild embryos, shapeless all, Without head, tail, or limb,

He lures his master to his call,

While both in fancy swim.

XXVII.

He now receives th' absurd command
This beauteous Queen to spoil:
Ah! deed unseemly for his hand,
A native of her isle.

XXVIII.

He runs and strips her gracious brows

Of her Imperial Crown

To dress the Hag, who quickly throws
Her turnip-garland down.

XXIX.

Yet smiling greets the Queen, and swears He only means her good,

That exigencies of affairs

May want her heart's best blood.

XXX.

Thus spoil'd, she sinks with sorrow faint
Before th' insulting Hag,

And, lest she publish her complaint,
Is menac'd with a gag.

XXXI.

There lying, of her clothes she's stript,
Her money too, we're told,
Into the judge's hand was slipt,
Ah! shameful thirst of gold!

XXXII.

Against Apollo Midas old

Gave judgment; did he worse Than one who to his wife, for gold, Could thus prefer his nurse?

XXXIII.

Ah! yet recall her cruel fate,

Mistaken judge, thy friend

Here warns thee; dangers soon or late

On Avarice attend.

XXXIV.

In thy wife's ruin yet behold

Thou dost thyself destroy;
Then cease to barter love, for gold
Which thou canst ne'er enjoy.

VOL. III.