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BELPHEGOR,

A FABLE.

FROM MACHIAVE L.

Fugit indignata fub umbras.

H' infernal monarch once, as ftories tell,

TH

VIRG

Review'd his fubjects from all parts of hell;
Around his throne unnumber'd millions wait,
He scarce believ'd his empire was so great;

Still as each pafs'd, he ask'd with friendly care

What crime had caus'd their fall, and brought them

there :

Scarce one he queftion'd, but reply'd the fame,

And on the marriage noose lay'd all the blame;
Thence ev'ry fatal error of their lives

They all deduce, and all accuse their wives.

Then to his peers, and potentates around,

Thus SATAN spoke; hell trembled with the sound.

My

My friends, what vast advantages wou'd flow
To these our realms? cou'd we but fully know
The form and nature of these marriage chains,
That send fuch crouds to our infernal plains;
Let fome bold patriot then, who dares to show
His gen'rous love to this our state below,
For his dear country's good the task essay,
And animate awhile fome human clay;

Ten

years

in marriage bonds he shall remain,

Enjoy its pleasures, and endure its pain,

Then to his friends return'd, with truth relate

The nature of the matrimonial state.

He spoke; the lift'ning crowds his scheme approv'd': But who fo much his prince, or country lov'd,

As thus, with fearless heart, to undertake

This hymeneal trial, for their fake?

At length with one confent they all propose,
That fortune fhall by lot the task impose;
The dreaded chance on bold BELPHEGOR fell,
Sighing h' obey'd, and took his leave of hell.

Firft in fair FLORENCE he was pleas'd to fix,
Bought a large house, fine plate, a coach and fix;

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Drefs'd rich and gay, play'd high, drank hard, and

whor'd,

And liv'd in short in all things like a lord:

His feafts were plenteous, and his wines were ftrong,
So poets, priests, and pimps his table throng,
Bring dedications, fermons, whores, and plays,
The dev'l was ne'er fo flatter'd in his days :
The ladies too were kind, each tender dame
Sigh'd, when the mention'd RODERIGO's name;
For fo he's call'd: rich, young, and debonnair,
He reigns fole monarch of the longing fair;
No daughter, fure, of EVE cou'd e'er escape
The dev'l, when cloath'd in fuch a tempting fhape.
One nymph at length, fuperior to the reft,
Gay, beautiful, and young, inspir'd his breast;
Soft looks and fighs his paffion soon betray'd,

Awhile he woos, then weds the lovely maid.

I shall not now, to grace my tale, relate

What feafts, what balls, what dreffes, pomp and ftate, Adorn'd their nuptial day, left it shou'd seem

As tedious to the reader, as to him,

Who

Who big with expectation of delight,
Impatient waited for the happy night;
The happy night is come, his longing arms
Press close the yielding maid in all her charms,
The yielding maid, who now no longer coy

With equal ardour loves, and gives a loose to joy:
Diffolv'd in bliss more exquisite than all
He e'er had felt in Heav'n, before his fall,
With rapture clinging to his lovely bride,
In murmurs to himself BELPHEGOR cry'd,

Are these the marriage chains? are these my fears?
Oh had my ten, but been ten thousand years!

But ah these happy moments last not long!
For in one month his wife has found her tongue,
All thoughts of love and tenderness are loft,
Their only aim is, who shall squander most ;
She dreams of nothing now but being fine,
Whilft he is ever guzzling nafty wine;
She longs for jewels, equipage, and plate,
And he, fad man! ftays out fo very late!
Hence ev'ry day domestic wars are bred,
A truce is hardly kept, while they're abed;

They

They wrangle all day long, and then at night,
Like wooing cats, at once they love and fight.
His riches too are with his quiet flown,

And they once spent, all friends on course are gone ;
The fum defign'd his whole ten years to last,
Is all confum'd before the first is past:
Where shall be hide? ah whither muft he fly?
Legions of duns abroad in ambush lie,

For fear of them, no more he dares to roam,
And the worst dun of all, his wife's at home.

Quite tir'd at length, with such a wretched life,
He flies one night at once from debts, and wife;
But ere the morning dawn his flight is known;
And crowds pursue him close from town to town;
He quits the public road, and wand'ring strays
Thro' unfrequented woods, and pathless ways;
At last with joy a little farm he fees,

Where liv'd a good old man, in health and ease;
MATTHEW his name: to him BELPHEGOR goes,
And begs protection from pursuing foes,
With tears relates his melancholy case,

Tells him from whence he came, and who he was,

And

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