I
A Tower of Brass, one would have said,
And Locks, and Bolts, and Iron Bars,
Might have preserv’ d one innocent Maiden-head.
The jealous Father thought he well might spare
All further jealous Care.
And, as he walk’ d, t’ himself alone he smiled,
To think how Venus’ Arts he had beguil’ d;
And when he slept, his Rest was deep:
But Venus laugh’ d, to see and hear him sleep:
She taught the am’ rous Jove
A magical Receipt in Love,
Which arm’ d him stronger, and which help’ d him more,
Than all his Thunder did, and his Almightyship before.
II
She taught him Love’ s Elixir, by which Art
His Godhead into Gold he did convert;
No Guards did then his Passage stay,
He pass’ d with Ease, Gold was the Word;
Subtle as Light’ ning, bright, and quick, and fierce,
Gold thro’ Doors and Walls did pierce;
And as that works sometimes upon the Sword,
Melted the Maidenhead away,
Ev’ n in the secret Scabbard where it lay.
The prudent Macedonian King,
To blow up Towns a Golden Mine did spring;
He broke thro’ Gates with this Petarr,
’ Tis the great Art of Peace, the Engine ’ tis of War;
And Fleets and Armies follow it afar;
The Ensign ’ tis at Land: and ’ tis the Seaman’ s Star.