Or how the Tree, which once white Berries bore,
Still crimson bears, since stain'd with crimson Gore.
The Tree was new; she likes it, and begins
To tell the Tale, and as she tells, she spins.
The Story of Pyramus and Thisbe.
In Babylon, where first her Queen, for State
Rais'd Walls of Brick magnificently great,
Liv'd Pyramus, and Thisbe, lovely Pair!
He found no Eastern Youth his Equal there,
And she beyond the fairest Nymph was fair.
A closer Neighbourhood was never known,
Tho' two the Houses, yet the Roof was one.
Acquaintance grew, th' Acquaintance they improve
To Friendship, Friendship ripen'd into Love:
Love had been crown'd, but impotently Mad,
What Parents could not hinder, they forbad.
For with fierce Flames young Pyramus still burn'd,
And grateful Thisbe Flames as fierce return'd.
Aloud in Words their Thoughts they dare not break,
But silent stand, and silent Looks can speak.
The Fire of Love the more it is supprest,
The more it glows, and rages in the Breast.
When the Division-wall was built, a Chink
Was left, the Cement unobserv'd to shrink.
So slight the Cranny, that it still had been
For Centuries unclos'd, because unseen.
But oh! what thing so small, so secret lies,
Which scapes, if form'd for Love, a Lover's Eyes?
Ev'n in this narrow Chink they quickly found
A friendly Passage for a trackless Sound.
Safely they told their Sorrows, and their Joys,
In whisper'd Murmurs, and a dying Noise.
