chain. Vanessa, though by Pallas taught, By Love invulnerable thought, Searching in books for wisdom's aid, Was, in the very search, betray'd. 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, said 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, Caress'd by ministers of state, Of half mankind the dread and hate. Whate'er vexations love attend, She needs no rivals apprehend. Her sex, with universal voice, Must laugh at her capricious choice. Cadenus many things had writ:      Vanessa much esteem'd his wit, And call'd 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 transfix'd her bosom too. Some lines, more moving than the rest, Stuck 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 decay'd? What planter will attempt to yoke A sapling with a falling oak? As years increase, she brighter shines; Cadenus with each day declines:      And he must fall a prey to time, While she continues in her prime. Cadenus, common forms apart, In every scene had kept his heart; Had sigh'd and languish'd, vow'd and writ, For pastime, or to show his wit, But books, and time, and state affairs, Had spoil'd his fashionable airs:      He now could praise, esteem, approve, But understood not what was love. His conduct might have made him styled A father, and the nymph his child. That innocent delight he took To see the virgin mind her book, Was but the master's secret joy In school to hear the finest boy. Her knowledge with her fancy grew; She hourly press'd for something new; Ideas came into her mind So fast, his lessons lagg'd behind; She reason'd, without plodding long,      

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