Swift as our Leader, to Minerva’s Fane

We bend our Course, a wild disorder’d Train.

Silence enjoin’d, with Confidence arose

The daring Authoress of all our Woes;

Her better Hand a naked Dagger press’d,

And thus her Speech the wrathful Fair address’d.

Ye Lemnian Dames, dissolv’d in barren Ease,

If Venus yet retains the Pow’r to please,

If empty Marriage-Forms ye disapprove,

And hate the Name without the Joys of Love;

Hear and attend: when Fortune points the Way,

And Heav’n inspires, ’tis impious to delay:

To Vengeance rise; nor let your Sex be known

By Want of Courage, but by Form alone.

Yet Hymen’s Privilege we may regain,

And Love and genial Joys revive again,

Would each the Toil with just Division share,

And join her private with the public Care.

Three Years have past, since each deserted Bride

Has lost the sullen Partner of her Side:

No more each Debt of Love and Duty’s paid,

Nor more Lucina yields her timely Aid.

Prompted by Nature, and by Love inclin’d,

The Fishes, Birds, and Beasts increase their Kind.

Stern Danaus his Progeny could rouse

To Vengeance for the Breach of Marriage-Vows,

And, unrestrain’d with Fears, dismiss the Foe,

In Dreams of Terror, to the Shades below:

But we, a worthless, servile, heartless Train,

Had rather brook tyrannic Hymen’s Chain.

Yet should these old Examples fail to move

Your just Revenge of alienated Love;

Copy the Thracian Dame, who durst explore;

Her Spouse’s Heart, and drink the rushing Gore.

Each Doubt, and each Objection to remove,

Myself will first the guilty Labour prove.

Four Babes, the Boast and Solace of their Sire,

Shall first beneath the ruthless Sword expire:

Nor shall their Blandishments a Respite gain,

But interposing Nature plead in vain:

While yet they breath, the Author of their Birth

Shall crown the Heap, and stain the loaded Earth.

What Heroine dares thus far in Guilt engage,

And second my Design with equal Rage?

Mean while the Lemnian Fleet, in all the Pride

Of swelling Canvass, cleaves the yielding Tide.

This with pleas’d Eyes the fierce Polyxo view’d.

And thus in Height of Joy her Theme pursu’d.

When Fortune calls, what farther can detain,

And shall the Gods afford their Aid in vain.

Our Foes advance, impell’d by adverse Fate,

To stain the Sword, and glut in Death our Hate.

Late slighted Venus in a Dream appear’d,

And o’er my Head a naked Falchion rear’d.

Why waste thus the Bloom of Youth? (she said)

Arise, arise, and purge the Marriage Bed;

On me alone for other Flames rely;

Each vacant Bed will I myself supply.

The Goddess spoke, and on the Pillow laid

This same (believe me) this same vengeful Blade,

But linger on, when fair Occasion calls.

And their Ships ride in Prospect of our Walls:

At ev’ry Stroke they raise the briny Foam,