HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears.
But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears.
In vain Thalcftris 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 enfu'd, and thus the nymph began.
Say why are Beautics prai'sd and honour'd most, The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toalt?
'VER. 7. Then grave Clariffa, etc.) A new Character introduced in the fubfequent Editions, to open more clearly the MORAL of the Poem, in a parody of the fpeech of Sarpedon to Glaucus in Homer.
IMITATIONS.
VER. 9. Say why are beauties, etc.)
Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus ftreams enrich the Lycian plain;
Our num'rous herds that range the fruitful field,
And hills where vines their purple hatveft yield;
Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd,
Our feafts enhanc'd with mufic's fprightly found;
Why on those thores are we with joy furvey'd,
Admired as heroes, and as Gods obey'd;
Unless great acts fuperior merit prove,
And vindicate the bounteous pow'rs above?
Why deck'd with all that land and fea afford, II
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 inmolt rows?
How vain are all thefe glories, all our pains,
Unless good fenfe preserve what beauty gains:
That men may fay, when we the front box grace,
Behold the firft in virtue as in face!
Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,
Charin'd the small-pox, or chas'd old-age away; 20
Who would not fcorn what housewife's cares produce,
Or who would learn one earthly thing of ufe?
To patch, nay cgle, might become a Saint,
Nor could it fure be fuch a fin to paint.
But fince, alas! frail beauty muft decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, fince Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all fhall fade,
And fhe who fcorns a man, muft die a maid;
'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 fov'reign ftate,
Whom those that envy, dare not imitate.
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no lefs the fearful than the brave,
For luft of fame I fhould not vainly dare
In fighting fields nor urge thy foul to war,
But fince, alafs! ignoble age must come,
Difeafe, and deaths inexorable doom;
The life which others pay, let us beftow,
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.
What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still whate'er we lofe? 30
And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and fcolding
fail.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charins ftrike the fight, but merit wins the foul.
So fpoke the Dame, but no applaufe enfu'd; 33
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris 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 rufsle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and Heroines' fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafe and treble voices ftrike 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 paffions rage:
'Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arins;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
VER. 37. To arms, to arms!) From hence the firft Edition goes on to the Conclufion, except a very few fhort infertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem.
VER. 45. So when bold Homer) Homer II. XX.
VER. 35. So spoke the Dame,) It is a verfe frequently repea
ted in Homer after any speech.
So spoke and all the Heroes applauded.
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound: Earth fhakes her noddingtow'rs, the ground givesway, And the pale ghofts ftart at the flash of day!
Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height
Clap'd his glad wings, and fate to view the fight:
Prop'd on their bodkin fpears, the Sprites furvey 55
The growing combat, or affift the fray.
While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thaleftris flies,
And fcatters death around from both her eyes,
A Beau and Witling perifh'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 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 Clarissa down,
Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown:
She fmil'd to fee the doughty hero flain,
But, at her fimile, the Beau reviv'd again.
VER. 53. Triumphant Umbriel!) Thefe four lines added, for the reafon before mentioned.
VER. 53. Triumphant Umbriel) Minerva in like manner, during the battle of Ulyffes with the Suitors in Odysf. perches on a beam of the roof to behold it.
VER. 64. Thofe eyes are made fo killing) The words of a Song in the Opera of Camilla.
VER. 65. Thus on Maander's flow'ry margin lies)
Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abie&us in herbis,
Ad vada Mæandri concinit albus olor.
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 hairs fubfide.
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 endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb fubdu'd:
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 duit.
Sudden, with 1tarting tears each eye o'erflows,
And the high dome re- echoes to his nofe.
Now meet thy fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,
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 vaft buckle for his widow's gown:
Her infant grandame's whittle next it grew,
The bells fhe gingled, and the whistle blew;
VER. 71. Now Jove, etc.) Vid. Homer II. viii. and Virg.
VER. 83. The Gnomes dire&t) These two lines added for the above reafon.
VER. 89. The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,) In imivation of the progress of Agamemnon's fceptre in Homer, II. ii.
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