HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears:
But fate and Jove had Hopp & the Baron's eat.
In vain Thaleftris with reproach affails,
For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
Not half fo fix'd the Trojan could remain,
While Anna begg'd, and Dido rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clariffa graceful wav'd her fan;
Silence enfu'd, and thus the nymph began.
Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toaft? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford,
Why angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?
[beaus,
Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd
Why bows and fide-box from its inmoft rows?
How vain are all these glories, all our pains,
Unless good fenfe preferve what beauty gains:
That men may fay, when we the front-box grace,
Behold the first in virtue, as in face!
Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,
Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away;
Who would not fcorn what hufwife's cares produce
Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a faint,
Nor could it fure be fuch a fin to paint.
But fince, alas! frail beauty muft decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, fince locks will turn to grey. -
Since painted, or not painted, all fhall fade,
And the who fcorns a man, muft die a maid;
What then remains, but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good humour ftill whate'er we lose?
And trust me, dear! good humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and fcreams, and fcolding fail,
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may-roll;
Charms ftrike the fight, but merit wins the foul."
So fpoke the dame, but no applaufe enfu'd;
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris call'd her prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce virago cries,
And fwift as lightning to the combate flies.
All fide in parties, and begin th' attack;
Fans clap, filks ruffle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heros and heroins fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafe, and treble voices ftrike the skies :
No common weapons in their hands are found,
Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound
* So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,
And heav'nly breafts with human paffions rage;
Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around;
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound;
Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!
Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height
Clapp'd his glad wings, and fate to view the fight, Propp'd on their bodkin fpears, the sprites furvey The growing combat, or affift the fray.
While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thaleftris flies,
And scatters deaths around from both her eyes;
A beau and witling perifh'd in the throng,
One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song.
O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,
Cry'd Dapperwit, and funk befide his chair.
A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft,
*Those eyes are made fo killing--was his laft;
Thus on Maander's flow'ry margin lies,
Th' expiring Swan, and as he fings he dies.
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariffa down,. Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She fmil'd to fee the doughty hero flain, But, at her fmile, the beau reviv'd again:
Now Jove fufpends his golden fcales in air, Weighs the mens wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from fide to fide; At length the wits mount up, the hairs fubfide.
See fierce Belinda on the baron flies,
With more than usual lightning in her eyes:
Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try,
Who fought no more than on his foe to die.
But this bold Lord with manly ftrength endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb fubdu'd:
Juft where the breath of life his noftrils drew,
A charge of fouff the wily virgin threw;
*A Song in the Opera of Camilla.
↑ Vid, Homer, 11. 8. & Virg. Æn. 12.
The Gnomes direct to ev'ry atome juft,
The pungent grains of titillating duft.
Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows,
And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
Now meet thy fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,
And drew a deadly bodkin from her fide.
(*The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,
Her great great grandfire wore about his neck
In three feal-rings; which after, melted down,
Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown:
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells fhe gingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe!
Thou by fome other shalt be laid as low.
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind:
All that I dread is leaving you behind!
Rather than fo, ah let me ftill furvive,
And burn in Cupid's flames,but burn alive,
Reftore the lock! fhe cries, and all around
Reftore the lock! the vaulted roofs rebound.
* In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's feeptre in Ho
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