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The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; Th’ embroider d King who the vs but half his face, And his refulgent Queen, with pow’rs combin'd, Of broken troops an easy conqueft find. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder feen, With throngs promiscuous ftrow the level green. Thus, when dispers'd, a routed army runs, Of Asia's troops, and Afric's fable fons, With like confusion diff'rent nations fly, Of various habits, and of various dye, The pierc'd battalions, disunited, fall, In heaps on heaps ; one fate o’erwhelms them all.

The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts,
And wins (oh shameful chance !) the Queen of Hearts.
At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook,
A livid palenefs spreads o'er all her look ;
She fees, and trembles at th' approaching ill,
Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille.
And now (as oft in some distemper'd state)
On one nice trick depends the gen'ral fate.
An Ace of Hearts steps forth : the King, unfeen,
Lurk d in her hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen:
He springs to vengeance with an eager pace,
And falls like thunder on the proftrate Ace.
The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky;
The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.

O thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.
Sudden, these honours shall be snatch'd away,
And curs'd for ever this victorious day.


For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd,
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round;
On shining Altars of Japan they raise
The filver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
From filver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
While China's earth receives the smoaking tide :
At once they gratify their scent and taste,
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Strait hover round the fair her airy band;
Some, as she sipp’d, the fuming liquor fann'd,
Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd,
Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.
Coffee (which makes the politician wife,
And see thro' all things with his half fhut eyes)
Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain
New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain.
Ah cease, rash youth! defift ere 'tis too late,
Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's fate!
Chang'd to a bird, and fent to fit in air,
She dearly pays for Nisus' injur'd hair!

But, when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit inftruments of ill ?
Just then, Clariffa drew, with tempting grace,
A two-edg'd weapon from her thining cafe:
So ladies, in Romance, affift their knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends
The little engine on his fingers ends;
This just behind Belinda's neck he spread,
As o’er the fragrant Ateams she bends her heada

Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprites repair,
A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair ;
And thrice they twitch'd the diamond in her ear ;
Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near.
Just in that instant anxious Ariel fought
The clofe receffes of the Virgin's thought;
As on the nosegay in her breast reclin'd,
He watch'd th' ideas rising in her mind,
Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art,
An earthly lover lurking at her heart.
Amaz'd, confus’d, he found his pow'r expir’d,
Refign'd to fate, and with a figh retir'd.

The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring forfex wide,
T'inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide.
Ev'n then, before the fatal engine clos'd,
A wretched Sylph too fondly interpos’d;
Fate urg'd the sheers, and cut the Sylph in twain,
(But airy substance foon unites again)
The meeting points the sacred hair diffever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!

Then flash'd the living light'ning from her eyes,
And skreams of horror rend th' affrighted skies.
Not louder srieks to pitying heav'n are cast,
When husbands, or when lap-dogs breathe their last;
Or when rich China vessels, fall’n from high,
In glitt'ring duft, and painted fragments lie !

Let wreathes of triumph now my temples twine,
(The victor cry'd) the glorious prize is mine!
While fish in streams, or birds delight in air,
Or in a coach and fix the British fair,


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As long as Atalantis shall be read,
Or the small pillow grace a Lady's bed,
While visits shall be paid on folemn days,
When num'rous wax-lights in bright order blaze,
While nymphs take treats, or aflignations give,
So long my honour, name, and praise shall live!
What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date,
And monuments, like men, submit to fate!
Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy,
And strike to dust th' imperial tow'rs of Troy ;
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
What wonder, then, fair Nymph! thy hairs should feel
The conqu'ring force of unrefifted steel?
But anxious cares the pensive Nymph oppress’d,
And secret passions labour'd in her breast.
Not youthful kings in Battle seiz'd alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss,
Not ancient ladies when refus'd a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinn'd awry,
E'er felt fuch rage, resentment, and despair,
As thou, fad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair.

For, that fad moment when the Sylphs withdrew,
And Ariel, weeping, from Belinda flew,
Umbriel, a dufky, melancholy sprite,
As ever fully'd the fair face of light,
Down to the central earth, his
Repair'd, to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen.

proper scene,

Swift on his footy pinions flits the Gnome, And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome. No chearful breeze this sulien region knows, The dreaded Eaft is all the wind that blows. Here, in a grotto shelter'd close from air, And screen'd in sades from day's detetted glare, She sighs for ever on her penfive bed, Pain at her fide, and Megrim at her head.

Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place, But difl'ring far in figure and in face. Here ftood Ill-nature like an ancient maid, Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd; With flore of pray’rs, for mornings, nights, and noons, Hier hand is filla! her bosom with lampoons. There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head afide, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride, On the rich quilt finks with becomirg woe, Wrapt in a gown, for fickness, and for show. The fair-ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease.

A constant Vapour o’er the palace flies ; Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise ; Dreadful, as hermits dreams in haunted shades, Or bright, as visions of expiring maids. Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spestres, gaping tombs, and purple fires : Now lakes of liquid gold, Elyfian scenes, And cryfal domes, and Angels in machines.


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