He, in the old celestial cant,
Confess'd his flame, and swore by Styx,
Whate'er she would desire, to grant--
But wise Ardelia knew his tricks.
Ovid had warn'd her to beware
Of strolling gods, whose usual trade is,
Under pretence of taking air,
To pick up sublunary ladies.
Howe'er, she gave no flat denial,
As having malice in her heart;
And was resolv'd upon a trial,
To cheat the god in his own art.
"Hear my request," the virgin said;
"Let which I please of all the Nine
Attend, whene'er I want their aid,
Obey my call, and only mine."
By vow oblig'd, by passion led,
The god could not refuse her prayer:
He way'd his wreath thrice o'er her head,
Thrice mutter'd something to the air.
And now he thought to seize his due;
But she the charm already try'd:
Thalia heard the call, and flew
To wait at bright Ardelia's side.
On sight of this celestial _prude_,
Apollo thought it vain to stay;
Nor in her presence durst be rude,
But made his leg and went away.
He hop'd to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the Muses wait;
But Pallas owns Ardelia's power:
For vows divine are kept by Fate.
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