Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/117

Rh But still the work was not complete; When Venus thought on a deceit. Drawn by her doves, away she flies, And finds out Pallas in the skies. Dear Pallas, I have been this morn To see a lovely infant born; A boy in yonder isle below, So like my own without his bow, By beauty could your heart be won, You'd swear it is Apollo's son: But it shall ne'er be said, a child So hopeful has by me been spoil'd; I have enough beside to spare, And give him wholly to your care. Wisdom's above suspecting wiles: The Queen of Learning gravely smiles. Down from Olympus comes with joy, Mistakes Vanessa for a boy; Then sows within her tender mind Seeds long unknown to womankind; For manly bosoms chiefly fit, The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit. Her soul was suddenly endued With justice, truth, and fortitude; With honour, which no breath can stain, Which malice must attack in vain; With open heart and bounteous hand, But Pallas here was at a stand; She knew, in our degenerate days, Bare virtue could not live on praise; That meat must be with money bought: She therefore, upon second thought, Infus'd, yet as it were by stealth, Some small regard for state and wealth; Of