THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS. [MAY 1791.] Two nymphs, both nearly of an age, Of num'rous charms possess'd, A warm dispute once chanc'd to wage, Whose temper was the best. The worth of each had been complete, Had both alike been mild: But one, although her smile was sweet, Frown'd oft'ner than she smiled. And in her humour, when she frown'd, Would raise her voice and roar, And shake with fury to the ground The garland that she wore. The other was of gentler cast, From all such frenzy clear, Her frowns were seldom known to last, And never proved severe. To poets of renown in song The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong, And gave misplaced applause. They gentle call'd, and kind and soft, And though she changed her mood so oft, No judges, suré, were e'er so mad, Or so resolv'd to err In short, the charms her sister had They lavish'd all on her. Then thus the God whom fondly they Their great Inspirer call, Was heard, one genial summer's day, "Since thus ye have combined," he said, 66 66 My fav'rite nymph to slight, Adorning May, that peevish maid, "With June's undoubted right, "The Minx shall, for your folly's sake, "Still prove herself a shrew, "Shall make your scribbling fingers ache, "And pinch your noses blue." |