JOVE and SEMELE. Matthew Green Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.001 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. I. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 150-151. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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JOVE and SEMELE . By the Same .

Occasioned by a Lady's saying , that none of the ancient poetical Stories reflected so much on the Vanity of Women , as that of Phaëton does on the Ambition of Men .

JOVE for amusement quitted oft his skies , To visit earth , contracted to our size ; And lov'd ( however things in heav'n might go ) Exceedingly a game of romps below . Miss Semele he pick'd up , as he went , And thought , he pleas'd her to her heart's content . But minds aspiring ne'er can be at ease ; Once known a god , as man he ceas'd to please . In tenderest time , which women know , 'tis said , Thus she bespake the loving god in bed . Thou , who gav'st Daedalus his mazy art , And knowest all things but a woman's heart , Hear my request , for something yet untry'd , And swear by Styx , I shall not be deny'd . Fond Jove , like men , the better to succeed , Took any oath ; then bade the girl proceed . In human guise , great Jove , leave off to rove , Deceiving woman-kind , and pilf'ring love : What are those joys , which as a man you give , To what a god of thunder can atchieve ? Such weight of love , and might of limbs employ , As give immortal madams heav'nly joy . Jove came array'd , as bound by cruel fate , And Semele enjoy'd the god in state : When flaming splendors round his beamy head Divinely shone , and struck the mortal dead . Faint from the course though we awhile retreat , To cool and breathe before another heat ; The gods can't know , fresh with eternal prime , Love's stinted pause , nor want recruits from time ; But must with unabating ardours kiss , And bear down nature with excess of bliss . Learn hence , each fair one , whom like beauties grace , Possess'd of lawless empire by your face , Not to do what you list , because you may , Let cool discretion warm desires allay ; And itching curiosity believe , A lurking taint deriv'd from mother Eve . Spare then the men , ye fair , and frankly own , Your sex , like ours , has had its Phaëton .