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But since, alas! frail beauty must decay;
So spoke the dame, but no applause ensu'd;
So when bold Homer makes the gods engage,
Triumphant Umbriel, on a sconce's height, Clapp'd his glad wings, and sat to view the fight: Propp'd on their bodkin spears, the sprites survey The growing combat, or assist the fray.
While through the press enrag'd Thalestris flies,
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,
Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair;