A TALE. To CHLORINDA. Anthony Alsop Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.006 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. VI. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 246-249. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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A TALE . To CHLORINDA . By the Same . DAME Venus , a daughter of Jove's , And amongst all his daughters most fair , Lost , it seems , t' other day the two doves , That wafted her car thro' the air . The dame made a heavy sad rout , Ran about heav'n and earth to condole 'em ; And sought high and low to find out , Where the biddyes were stray'd , or who stole 'em . To the God , who the stragglers shou'd meet , She promis'd most tempting fine pay , Six kisses than honey more sweet , And a seventh far sweeter than they . The proposal no sooner was made , But it put all the Gods in a flame ; For who would not give all he had To be kiss'd by so dainty a dame ? To Cyprus , to Paphos they run , Where the Goddess oft us'd to retire ; Some rode round the world with the sun , And search'd every country and shire . But with all their hard running and riding , Not a God of 'em claim'd the reward ; For no one could tell tale or tiding , If the doves were alive or were starv'd . At last the sly shooter of men Young Cupid , ( I beg the God's pardon ) Mamma , your blue birds I have seen In a certain terrestrial garden . Where , where , my dear child , quickly shew , Quoth the dame , almost out of her wits : Do but go to Chlorinda's , says Cu , And you'll find 'em in shape of pewits . Is it she that hath done me this wrong ? Full well I know her , and her arts ; She has follow'd the thieving trade long , But I thought she dealt only in hearts . I shall soon make her know , so I shall — And with that to Jove's palace she run , And began like a bedlam to bawl , I am cheated , I'm robb'd , I'm undone . Chlorinda , whom none can approach Without losing his heart or his senses , Has stol'n the two doves from my coach , And now flaunts it at Venus' expences . She has chang'd the poor things to pewits , And keeps 'em like ord'nary fowls : So when she robs men of their wits , She turns 'em to asses or owls . I cou'd tell you of many a hundred Of figure , high station , and means , Whom she without mercy has plunder'd , Ever since she came into her teens . But her thefts upon earth I'd have borne , Or have let 'em all pass for mere fable ; But nothing will now serve her turn , But the doves out of Venus's stable . Is it fit , let your mighty ship say , That I , like some pitiful flirt , Shou'd tarry within doors all day , Or else trudge it afoot in the dirt ? Is it fit that a mortal shou'd trample On me , who am styl'd queen of beauty ? O make her , great Jove , an example , And teach Nimble-fingers her duty . Sir Jove when he heard her thus rage , For all his great gravity , smil'd ; And then , like a judge wise and sage , He began in terms sober and mild . Learn , daughter , to bridle your tongue , Forbear to traduce with your prattle The fair , who has done you no wrong , And scorns to purloin goods and chattel . She needs neither gewgaw nor trinket , To carry the world all before her ; Her deserts , I wou'd have you to think it , Are enough to make all men adore her . Your doves are elop'd , I confess , And chuse with Chlorinda to dwell ; But blame not the lady for this ; For sure 'tis no crime to excel . As for them , I applaud their high aims ; Having serv'd from the time of their birth The fairest of heavenly dames , They would now serve the fairest on earth .