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Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, 11 Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?

Why round our coaches croud the white-glov'd

Beaux,

Why bows the fide-box from its inmost rows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, 15 Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains : That men may say, when we the front-box grace, Behold the first in virtue as in face!

IMITATIONS.

"Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd,
"Our feasts enhanc'd with music's sprightly found;
" Why on those shores are we with joy survey'd,
" Admir'd as heroes, and as Gods obey'd;
" Unless great acts superior merit prove,
" And vindicate the bounteous pow'rs above ?
"'Tis ours, the dignity they give, to grace;
"The first in valour, as the first in place:
"That when with wond'ring eyes our martial bands
" Behold our deeds transcending our commands,
"Such, they may cry, deferve the sov'reign state,
" Whom those that envy, dare not imitate.
" Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
"Which claims no less the fearful than the brave,
"For luft of fame I should not vainly dare
" In fighting fields, nor urge thy foul to war.
"But fince, alas! ignoble age must come,
"Disease, and death's inexorable doom;
" The life which others pay, let us bestow,
" And give to fame what we to nature owe;
"Brave tho' we fall, and honour'd if we live,
"Or let us glory gain, or glory give."

Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old-age away; 20 Who would not scorn what housewife's cares

produce,

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint, Nor could it fure be such a fin to paint.

25

But fince, alas! frail beauty must decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a man, must die a maid;
What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still whate'er we lose? 30
And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding

fail.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the fight, but merit wins the foul. So spoke the Dame, but no applause ensu'd; 35 Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 35. So spoke the Dame,] It is a verse frequently repeated in Homer after any speech,

" So spoke-and all the Heroes applauded." P.

To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
All fide in parties, and begin th' attack;
Fans clap, filks russle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and Heroines' shouts confus'dly rise, 41
And base and treble voices strike 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, 45
And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage;
'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms :
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps re-

found:

50

Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground

gives way,

And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

VARIATIONS.

VER. 37. To arms, to arms!] From hence the first Edition goes on to the conclufion, except a very few short insertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem. P.

NOTES:

VER. 45. So when bold Homer] Homer, Il. xx. P.

Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clap'd his glad wings, and sate to view the fight : Prop'd on their bodkin spears, the Sprites survey The growing combat, or assist the fray.

56

60

While thro' the press enrag'd Thalestris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A Beau and Witling perish'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in fong. "O cruel nymph! a living death I bear," Cry'd Dapperwit, and funk beside his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft, "Those eyes are made so killing" was his last. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies Th' expiring Swan, and as he fings 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 flain,

But, at her smile, the Beau reviv'd again.

VARIATIONS.

65

70

VER: 53. Triumphant Umbriel] These four lines added, for the reason before-mentioned. P.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 53. Triumphant Umbriel] Minerva in like manner, during the battle of Ulysses with the Suitors in the Odyss. perches on a beam of the roof to behold it. P.

VER. 64. Those eyes are made so killing] The words of a Song in the Opera of Camilla. P.

VER. 65. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies]
Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,
Ad vada Mæandri concinit albus olor.

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75

Now Jové fufpends his golden scales 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 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 fought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold Lord with manly strength endu'd, She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd: 80 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, 85 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 personage to deck, Her great great grandfire wore about his neck, 90

VARIATIONS.

VER. 83. The Gnomes direct,] These two lines added for the above reafon. P.

NOTES.

VER. 71. Now Jove, etc.] Vid. Homer, Il. viii. and Virg. Æn. xii.

P.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 89. The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,] In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer, II. ii. P.

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