Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here
The various off 'rings of the world appear;
From cach the nicely culls with curious toil,
And decks the goddefs with the glitt'ring fpoil.
This cafket India's glowing gems unlocks,
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box:
The tortoife here and elephant unite,
Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white:
Here files of pins extend their fhining rows,
Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux.
Now awful beauty puts on all its arms;
The fair each moment rifes in her charms,
Repairs her fmiles, awakens ev'ry grace,
And calls forth all the wonders of her face:
Sees by degrees a purer blush arife,

And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
The bufy Sylphs furround their darling care;
Thefe fet the head, and thofe divide the hair;
Some fold the fleeve, whilst others plait the gown;
And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own.

CANTO II.

NOT with more glories, in th' ethereal plain,
The fun first rifes o'er the purpled main,
Than, iffuing forth, the rival of his beams
Launch'd on the bofom of the filver Thames.
Fair nymphs, and well-dreft youths, around her
[fhone,
But ev'ry eye was fixt on her alone.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kits, and Infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfixt as thofe :
Favours to none, to all the fmiles extends;
Oft the rejects, but never once offends.
Bright as the fun her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the fun, they fhine on all alike.
Yet graceful cafe, and fweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
If to her fhare fome female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you 'll forget them all.

This Nymph, to the deftruction of mankind,
Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well confpir'd to deck
With thining ringlets the fmooth iv'ry neck.
Love in these labyrinths his flaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in flender chains.
With hairy fpringes we the birds betray;
Slight lines of hair furprise the finny prey;
Fair treffes man's imperial race enfnare,
And beauty draws us with a fingle hair.

Th'advent'rous Baron the bright locks admir'd:
He faw, he wish'd, and to the prize alpir'd.
Refolv'd to win, he meditates the way,
By force to ravish, or by fraud betray;
For, when fuccefs a Lover's toil attends,
Few ask if fraud or force attain'd his ends.
For this, ere Phoebus rofe, he had implor'd
Propitious Heaven, and ev'ry pow'r ador'd;
But chiefly Love-to Love an altar built
Of twelve vaft French romances, neatly gilt.
There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves;
And all the trophies of his former loves:
pyre,
With tender billet-doux he lights the
And breathes three am'rous fighs to raife the fire:

Then proftrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes
Soon to obtain, and long pollets the prize.
The pow'rs gave car, and granted half his pray'r;
The reft, the winds difpers'd in empty air.

But now fecure the painted veffel glides,
The fun-beams trembling on the floating tides;
While melting mufic fteals upon the sky,
And foften'd founds along the waters die;
Smooth flow the waves, the Zephyrs gently play;
Belinda fmil'd, and all the world was gay.
All but the Sylph-with careful thoughts oppreft,
Th' impending woe fat heavy on his breaft.
He fummons ftraight his denizens of air;
The lucid fquadrons round the fails repair :
Soft o'er the fhrouds aërial whispers breathe,
That feem'd but Zephyrs to the train beneath.
Some to the fun their infect-wings unfold,
Waft on the breeze, or fink in clouds of gold;
Tranfparent forms, too fine for mortal fight,
Their fluid bodies half diffolv'd in light.
Loofe to the wind their airy garments flew,
Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew,
Dipp'd in the richest tincture of the skies,
Where light difports in ever-mingling dyes;
While ev'ry beam new tranfient colours flings,
Colours that change whene'er they wave their
[wings.
Amid the circle on the gilded maft,
Superior by the head, was Ariel plac'd;
His purple pinions op'ning to the fun,
He rais'd his azure wand, and thus begun :

Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear:
Fays, fairies, genii, elves, and dæmons, hear!
Ye know the fpheres and various tasks affign'd
By laws eternal to th' aërial kind.
Some in the fields of pureft æther play,
And bask and whiten in the blaze of day:
Some guide the courfe of wand'ring orbs on high,
Or roll the planets through the boundless sky :
Some, lefs refin'd, beneath the moon's pale light,
Purfue the stars that shoot athwart the night,
Or fuck the mifts in groffer air below,
Or dip their pinions in the painted bow,
Or brew fierce tempefts on the wint'ry main,
Or o'er the glebe diftil the kindly rain:
Others on earth o'er human race prefide,
Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide:
Of these the chief the care of nations own,
And guard with arms divine the British throne.
Our humbler province is to tend the Fair,
Not a lefs pleafing, tho' lefs glorious care;
To fave the powder from too rude a gale,
Nor let th' imprifon'd effences exhale;
To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow'rs;
To fteal from rainbows, ere they drop in show'rs,
A brighter wash; to curl their waving hairs,
Affift their blushes, and infpire their airs;
Nay oft, in dreams, invention we bestow,
To change a flounce, or add a furbelow.

This day black omens threat the brightest fair
That e'er deferv'd a watchful spirit's care;
Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight;
But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night.
Whether the nymph fhall break Diana's law,
Or fome frail China jar receive a flaw;

Q4

Or

[fall.

Or ftain her honour, or her new brocade;
Forget her pray'rs, or miss a masquerade;
Or lofe her heart, or necklace, at a ball;
Or whether Heaven has doom'd that Shock muft
Hafte then, ye fpirits! to your charge repair:
The fiutt'ring fan be Zephyretta's care;
The drops to thee, Brillante, we configu;
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine;
Do thou, Crifpilla, tend her fav'rite Lock;
Ariel himself fhall be the guard of Shock.

To fifty chofen Sylphs, of fpecial note,
We trust th' important charge, the Petticoat:
Oft have we known that feven-fold fence to fail,
Tho' ftiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs of whale:
Form a strong line about the filver bound,
And guard the wide circumference around.

Whatever fpirit, carelefs of his charge,
His poft neglects, or leaves the fair at large,
Shall feel tharp vengeance foon o'ertake his fins,
Be ftopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins;
Or plung'd in lakes of bitter washes lie,
Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye:
Gums and pomatums fhall his flight restrain,
While clogg'd he beats his fiiken wings in vain;
Or alum ftyptics with contracting pow'r
Shrink his thin effence like a thrivell'd flow'r :
Or, as Ixion fix'd, the wretch fhall feel
The giddy motion of the whirling mill;
In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow,
And tremble at the fea that froths below!

He fpoke; the fpirits from the fails descend;
Soine, orb in orb, around the nymph extend;
Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair;
Some hang upon the perdants of her ear;
With beating hearts the dire event they wait,
Anxious, and trembling for the birth of Fate.

CLOSE by thofe meads, for ever crown'd with
flow'rs,

Where Thames withpride furveys his rifing tow'rs,
There ftands a structure of majestic frame,
Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its

name.

Here Britain's ftatefmen oft the fall foredoom
Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home;
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Doft fometimes counsel take, and fometimes tea.
Hither the heroes and the nymphs refort,
To taste awhile the pleasures of a court;

Belinda now,
whom thirft of fame invites,
Burns to encounter two advent'rous knights
And fwells her breaft with conquefis yet to come.
At ombre fingly to decide their doom;
Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join,
Each band the number of the facred nine.
Soon as the fpreads her hand, th' aërial guard
Defcend, and fit on each important card:
First Ariel perch'd upon a matadore,
Then each according to the rank they bore;
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race,
Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
Behold, four kings in majefty rever'd,
And four fair queens whofe hands fuftain a flow'r,
Th' expreffive emblem of their fofter pow'r;
Four knaves in garbs fuccinct, a trufty band,
And party-colour'd troops, a fhining train,
Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand;
Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain.

The fkilful nymph reviews her force with care;
Let Spades be trumps! fhe faid, and trumps they

were.

Now move to war her fable matadores,
In fhow like leaders of the fwarthy Moors.
Spadillio firft, unconquerable lord!

Led off two captive trumps, and fwept the board.
As many more Manillio forc'd to yield,

And march'd a victor from the verdant field.
Gain'd but one trump, and one Plebeian card.
Him Bafto follow'd, but his fate more hard
With his broad fabre next, a chief în years,
The hoary Majefty of Spades appears,
Puts forth one manly leg, to fight reveal'd,
The reft his many-colour'd robe conceal'd.
The rebel Knave, whe dares his prince engage,
Proves the juft victim of his royal rage.

E'en mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'er

threw,

Sad chance of war! now deftitute of aid,
And mow'd down armies in the fights of Loo,
Falls undiftinguifh'd by the victor Spade !

Thus far both armies to Belinda yield;
Now to the Baron fate inclines the field.
His warlike Amazon her hoft invades,
The Club's black tyrant first her victim died,
Th' imperial confort of the crown of Spades.
Spite of his haughty micn, and barb'rous pride;
What boots the regal circle on his head;
His giant limbs, in ftate unwieldy spread;

In various talk th' inftructive hours they pafs'd,That long behind he trails his pompous robe,

Who gave the ball, or paid the visit laft;
One fpeaks the glory of the British Queen,
And one defcribes a charming Indian fcreen;
A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
At ev'ry word a reputation dies.

Snuff, or the fan, fupply each paufe of chat;
With finging, laughing, ogling, and all teat.
Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day,
The fun obliquely fhoots his burning ray;
The hungry judges foon the fentence fign,
And wretches hang, that jurymen may dine;
The merchant froin th' Exchange returns in peace,
And the long labours of the toilet cease.

And, of all monarchs, only grafps the globe?

The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace;
Th'embroider'd King who thews but half his face,
And his refulgent Queen, with pow'rs combin'd,
Of broken troops an eafy conqueft find.

Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild diforder feen,
With throngs promifcuous ftrow the level green.
Thus when difpers'd a routed army runs,
Of Afia's troops, and Afric's fable fons,
With like confufion diff'rent nations fly,
The pierc'd battalions difunited fall
Of various habit, and of various dye;

In heaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
The

|

Where the gilt chariot never marks the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste bohea!
There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
Like rofes that in deferts bloom and die.
What mov'd my mind with youthful lords to roam:
O had I ftay'd, and faid my pray'rs at home!
'Twas this the morning omens feem'd to tell :
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
The tort ring China fhook without a wind;
Nay Poll fat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of Fate
In mystic vifions, now believ'd too late!
See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what ev'n thy rapine fpares:
Thefe, in two fable ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck;
The fifter lock now fits uncouth, alone,
And in its fellow's fate forefees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal fheers demands,
And tempts once more thy facrilegious hands.
Oh hadft thou, cruel! been content to feize
Hairs lefs in fight, or any hairs but these !

CANTO V.

SHE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears;
But Fate and Jove had ftopp'd the Baron's ears.
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 enfued, 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 fea afford,
Why angel scall'd, and angel-like ador'd? [beaux,
Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd
Why bows the fide-box from its inmoft rows?
How vain are all thefe glories, all our pains,
Unlefs 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 drefs all day,
Charm'd the finall-pox, or chas'd old age away,
Who would not fcorn what housewife's cares
produce,

Or who would learn one earthly thing of ufe?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a faint;
Nor could it fure be fuch a fin to paint.
But fince, alas! frail beauty must 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 ufe,
And keep good-humour still, whate'er we lofe?
And truft me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, 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 applause ensued;
Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And fwift as lightning to the combat flies.

All fide in parties, and begin th' attack:
Fans clap, filks rustle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and heroines' fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafs and treble voices ftrike the skies.
No common weapons in their hands are found;
Like Gods they üight, nor dread a mortal wound.
So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,
And heavenly breafts with human paffions rage,
'Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms;
Jove's thunder roars, heaven trembles all around,
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound:
Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day! [way,
Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height
Clapp'd his glad wings, and fat to view the fight:
Propt on their bodkin fpears, the fprites furvey
The growing combat, or affift the fray.

While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thalestris flies,
And scatters deaths around from both her eyes,
A beau and witling perifh'd in the throng;
One died in metaphor, and one in fong.
"O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,"
Cried Dapperwit, and funk befide his chair.
A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft;
"Thofe eyes are made fo killing!"-was his laft.
Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies
Th' expiring Swan, and as he fings he dies.

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariffa down,
Chloe ftepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown;
She fmil'd to fee the doughty hero flain;
But, at her finile, the beau reviv'd again.

Now Jove fufpends his golden fcales in air,
Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair;
The doubtful beam long nods from fide to fide;
At length the wits mount up, the bairs subside.
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
With more than ufual 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 endued,
She with one finger and a thumb fubdued:
Juft where the breath of life his noftrils drew,
A charge of fnuff the wily virgin threw;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom juft,
The pungent grains of titillating duft.
Sudden with ftarting 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 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 the jingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long he wore, and now Belinda wears).
Boait not my fall, he cried, infulting foe!
Thou by fome other fhalt 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