Reason. Poem by Daniel Baker

Reason, which long had absent been before,
Vouchsaf'd one Day to come within my door.
Affrighted at th' unusual Sight, I try'd:
To slip away, and trembling sneak'd aside:
But he laid hold upon my Gown and made
Me stay, and hear, whilst thus he gravely said,

Art thou a Man, who thus thy self dost cheat,
And let blind Passion usurp Reason's Seat,
And giv'st thy Soul up to be rul'd by that
Which neither knows how to command, nor what?
Are Fetters grown so lovely, canst thou brook
On thy free Neck to wear Love's Iron Yoak?
What is this Rebel, Love, that dares controul
My Right, and claim Supremacy in th' Soul?
Love, that enfeebles ev'ry noble Mind,
And Subjects Man to peevish Woman kind?

In vain, alass! thy barren Soul I've till'd,
Scattering the Seeds of Virtue through the Field,
Wild Oats are all the Crop that Ground will yield
Where Love takes root, in vain we plough and sow;
'Tis such a Weed, no Corn near it will grow.
Ah perjur'd Wretch, thus to abandon me,
Whose Servant thou long since didst vow to be;
But now my Place the Muses must supply:
Those paltry Girls are more admir'd than I.

What hast thou got by following this fond trade?
Art thou the Richer, or the wiser made?
Behold! how all thy Fellows do ascend,
And to the Pulpit climb, their Journey's end;
While thou dost preach t'a Woman, and provide,
Homilies against Avarice and Pride.
But all in vain: she stops her sullen ears;
Thy Sermons she regards, just as the People, theirs.

Thy Country and thy Friends require a share
In that small stock of Learning, which their Care
And Providence gave thee: But ingrateful thou
Dost on a Woman all thy Thoughts bestow,
And fondly slighting all their just desires,
Thou melt'st thy self away in Female Fires.

Rise, Baker, rise: take thy neglected Arms,
Resist Self love, and wanton Pleasures Charms.
Turn o'er the learned Volumes of the wise;
Their great Examples set before thine Eyes
Whom noble Virtue, and improved Wit
Have in the Temple of bright Honour set.
Success attends the bold. Dare to despise
This Tyrant, Love: for when despis'd, he flies.

Thus Reason said, and would have said much more,
When suddenly we heard one ope the Door,
And, lo! she enter'd:
The mighty She, and like a Goddess bright;
Her Eyes sent forth a more than human Light.
She charming was, her Dress I durst have sworn
Venus herself had been her Maid that Morn.
A Crown of palest Gold her Head did wear
If Gold may be compared with her Hair.
And like as Lilies in a Glass with more
Advantage shew their Whiteness, than before;
So with more Art a fine transparent Shade
Her snowy Neck and panting Breasts display'd.

At her victorious Presence, Reason fell
Like Dagon down before the Ark of Israel;
And all his feeble Troops of Arg'ments fled:
I 'rose, and reverently bow'd my Head,
And Pardon begg'd for what had past before,
And by her heav'nly Eyes devoutly swore.

Bright Maid, than Life it self more dear to me,
Confin'd to some dark Dungeon let me be,
Banish'd for ever from thy soft Embrace,
And from the Vision of that beaut'ous Face,
If Reason's babling Tongue again I hear,
Or yield to any Voice, but thine, mine Ear.

Things human, Reason, to thy Lot do fall;
Reign, if thou wilt, for ever in that Hall:
But soar no high'r, lest Love's diviner Light
Confound thy mortal Eyes, and blind thee quite,