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CHE said: the pitying andience melt in tears;
In vain Thalestris with reproach assails.
* Say, why are beantiesprais'd and honour d most. The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd? Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd beanx?
Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows?
Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
And ftost me, dear! good-humour can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding
Beanties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.'
So spoke the dame, but no applanse ensued: Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her prnde. * To arms, to arms!' the fierce virago cries. And swift as lightning to the combat flies. All side in parties, and begin th' attack; Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack; Heroes' and heroines' shouts confus'dly rise, And base and treble voices strike the skies. Ko common weapons in their hands are found; like gods they tight, nor dread a mortal wound.
So when bold Homer makes the gods engage, And heavenly breasts with human passions rage; 'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; And all Olympus rings with lond alarms; Jove's thunder roars, heaven trembles all around, Blue, Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound:
Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!
Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clapp'dhis 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 And scatters death around from both her eyes, A bean and witling perish'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song. 1 O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,' Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance sir Fopling upwards cast, 1 Those eyes are made so killing—' was his lastThus on Mteander's flowery margin lies * Th' expiring swan, and as he sings he dies„
When bold sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain, But, atlier smile, the beau reviv' d again.
Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air. Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside.
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 sought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly strength endued, She with one finger and a thumb subdued; Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; The Gnomes direct, to every atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
* Now meet thy fate,' incens'd Belinda cried, And drew a deadly bodkin from her side (The same, his ancient personage to deck. Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck, In three seal-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 she jingled, and the whistle blew; Then in a bodkin grae'd her mother's hairs. Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears).
* Boast not my fall,' he cried,* insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind:
* Restore the lock,' she cries; and all around, * Restore the lock!' the vaulted roofs re*
Kot fierce Othello in so loud a stram
Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere,
But trust the muse—she saw it upward rise.
To Proculus alone confess'd in view):
And hail with music its propitious ray.
Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost. For, after aH the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, This lock, the muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.