Classic Poem

Hail, door, to husband and to father dear!
And may Jove make thee his peculiar care!
Thou who, when Balbus liv'd, if fame say true,
Wast wont a thousand sorry things to do;
And, when they carried forth the good old man,
For the new bride who didst them o'er again;
Say, how have people this strange notion got,
As if thy former faith thou hadst forgot?

DOOR .

So may Caecilius help me, whom I now
Must own my master, as I truly vow! —
Be the offences talk'd of great, or small;
Still I am free, and ignorant of all:
I boldly dare the worst that can be said;
And yet, what charges to my fault are laid!
No deed so infamous, but strait they cry,
" Fy, wicked door! this is your doing, fy! "

PASSENGER .

This downright, bold assertion ne'er will do;
You must speak plainer, and convince us too.

DOOR .

I would; — but how, when no one wants to know?

PASSENGER .

I want; — collect your facts, and tell them now.

DOOR .

First, then, I will deny, for so 'tis thought,
That a young virgin to my charge was brought;
Not that her husband, with ungovern'd flame,
Had stol'n, in hasty joy, that sacred name;
So vile his manhood, and so cold his blood,
Poor, languid tool! he could not, if he wou'd:
But his own father, 'tis expressly said,
Had stain'd the honours of his nuptial bed;
Whether, because to virtue's image blind,
Thick clouds of lust had darken'd all his mind;
Or, conscious of his son's unfruitful seed,
He thought some abler man should do the deed.

PASSENGER .

A pious deed, in truth; and nobly done — —
A father makes a cuckold of his son!

DOOR .

Nor was this all that conscious Brixia knew;
Sweet mother of the country where I grew
In earliest youth! who, from Chinaea's height,
Sees boundless landscapes burst upon the sight;
Brixia! whose sides the yellow Mela laves
With the calm current of its gentle waves:
She also knows what bliss Posthumius prov'd;
And how, in triumph, gay Cornelius lov'd;
With both of whom, so wanton was the fair,
She did not blush her choicest gifts to share.
" But how (you'll ask) could you, a senseless door,
" These secrets, and these mysteries explore;
" Who never from your master's threshold stirr'd,
" Nor what the people talk'd of ever heard;
" Content upon your hinges to remain,
" To ope, and shut, and then to ope again. " —
Learn, that full oft I've heard the whisp'ring fair,
Who ne'er suspected I had tongue, or ear,
To her own slaves her shameful actions tell,
And speak the very names I now reveal.
One more she mention'd, whom I will not speak,
Lest warm displeasure flush his angry cheek:
Thus far I'll tell thee; he's an awkward brute,
Whose spurious birth once caus'd no small dispute.