Three sparks ensued that chased it all away,
And set the unseemly pair in open day.

"To horse!" he cried, "or by this good right hand, "And better spear, I smite you where you stand."

Sir Airy, not a whit dismayed or scared, Buckled his helm, and to his steed repaired, Whose bridle, while he cropped the grass below, Hung not far off upon a myrtle bough.

He mounts at once such confidence infused 175
The insidious witch that had his wits abused;
And she regardless of her softer kind,
Seized fast the saddle and sprang up behind.

"Oh, shame to knighthood!" his assailant cried,

184

Placed with advantage at his listening ear, She whispered still that he had naught to fear, That he was cased in such enchanted steel, So polished and compact from head to heel, "Come ten, come twenty, should an army call "Thee to the field, thou shouldst withstand them all." By Dian's beams," Sir Marmadan exclaimed, "The guiltiest still are ever least ashamed "But guard thee well, expect no feigned attack; "And guard behind the sorceress at thy back!"

He spoke indignant, and his spurs applied, 191 Though little need, to his good palfrey's side; The barb sprang forward, and his lord, whose force, Was equal to the swiftness of his horse, Rushed with a whirlwind's fury on the foe, And, Phineas like, transfixed them at a blow. Then sang the married and the maiden throng, Love graced the theme, and harmony the song;

195

ON MADAN'S ANSWER TO NEWTON. 319

201

The Fauns and Satyrs, a lascivious race,
Shrieked at the sight, and, conscious, fled the place:
And Hymen, trimming his dim torch anew,
His snowy mantle o'er his shoulders threw ;
He turned and viewed it oft on every side,
And reddening with a just and generous pride,
Blessed the glad beams of that propitious day, 205
The spot he loathed so much for ever cleansed

away.

ON

MARTIN MADAN'S ANSWER TO JOHN NEWTON'S COMMENTS ON THELYPTHORA.*

M

QUARRELS with N. because M. wröte

a book,

And N. did not like it, which M. could not brook,

So he called him a bigot, a wrangler, a monk, With as many hard names as would line a good

trunk,

And set up his back, and clawed like a cat,
But N. liked it never the better for that.

5

Now N. had a wife, and he wanted but one, Which stuck in M.'s stomach as cross as a bone; It has always been reckoned a just cause of strife, For a man to make free with another man's wife, But the strife is the strangest that ever was known, If a man must be scolded for loving his own.

* Sent to Newton, in a letter dated 13th May, 1781, and printed by Southey in his vol. iv. p. 91.

IMPROMPTU ON READING THE CHAPTER OF POLYGAMY IN MADAN'S THELYPTHORA.*

F John marries Mary, and Mary alone, 'Tis a very good match between Mary and John.

Should John wed a score, Oh, the claws, and the scratches!

It can't be a match-'tis a bundle of matches.

ON A REVIEW OF MADAN'S THELYPTHORA.†

HAVE read the Review; it is learned

and wise,

Clean, candid, and witty-Thelypthora

dies.

"One of those bagatelles which sometimes spring up like mushrooms in my imagination, either while I am writing or just before I begin. I sent it to you because to you I send anything that I think may raise a smile, but should never have thought of multiplying the impression."-Letter to Newton, 27th November, 1781. It appeared however in the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. L. p. 582.

The article alluded to appeared in the pages of the Monthly Review, vol. LXIII. and was written by the Rev. Mr. Badcock. Mr. Robert Bell has given an account of Thelypthora and the disturbance which it created in the world of theology and morals, to which inquirers may turn with profit (Bell's Cowper, II. 76). Cowper and Newton were merely sharers in the general excitement occasioned by Madan's extraordinary speculations.

SONNET

TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY.*

EEM not, sweet rose, that bloomest midst many a thorn,

Thy friend, though to a cloister's
shade consigned, }

Can e'er forget the charms he left behind,
Or pass unheeded this auspicious morn,
In happier days, to brighter prospects born
Oh, tell thy thoughtless sex, the virtuous
mind,

Like thee, content in every state may find,}>
And look on Folly's pageantry with scorn.
To steer with nicest art betwixt the extreme c
Of idle mirth and affectation coy,
To blend good sense with elegance and ease, V
To bid Affliction's eye no longer stream,

5

10

Is thine;-best gift, the unfailing source of joy,

The guide to pleasures which can never cease.

* Grimshawe, vol. VIII. p. 19.

A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LADY AUSTEN.*

EAR ANNA-between friend and friend,
Prose answers every common end;
Serves, in a plain and homely way,

To express the occurrence of the day;

Our health, the weather, and the news,
What walks we take, what books we choose;
And all the floating thoughts we find

Upon the surface of the mind.

But when a poet takes the pen,
Far more alive than other men,
He feels a gentle tingling come
Down to his finger and his thumb,
Derived from nature's noblest part,
The centre of a glowing heart:

And this is what the world, who knows
No flights above the pitch of prose,
His more sublime vagaries slighting,
Denominates an itch for writing.
No wonder I, who scribble rhyme
To catch the triflers of the time,

5

10

15

20

And tell them truths divine and clear,

Who labour hard to allure and draw

Which, couched in prose, they will not hear;

The loiterers I never saw,

Should feel that itching and that tingling, 25 With all my purpose intermingling,

* Hayley, 1803, vol. 1. p. 116.