CANTO V. SHE said: the pitying audience melt in tears; But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the baron's ears. In vain Thalestris with reproach assails, Say, why are beauties prais'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 beaux ? Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows? Oh! if to dance all night and dress all day, Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? 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 sight, but merit wins the soul.' Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives way, And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day! Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clapp'd his 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 beau and witling perish'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song. 'O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,' Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance sir Fopling upwards cast, Those eyes are made so killing was his last. Thus on Mæander'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, at her 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 grac'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: All that I dread is leaving you behind! Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And burn in Cupid's flames---but burn alive.' Restore the lock,' she cries; and all around, Restore the lock!' the vaulted roofs re bound. Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain. With such a prize no mortal must be blest, Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. There heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases, And beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases: There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound; The courtier's promises, and sick man's prayers, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry. But trust the muse--she saw it upward rise, Though mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes: (So Rome's great founder to the heavens with drew, To Proculus alone confess'd in view): A sudden star, it shot through liquid air, And pleas'd pursue its progress through the skies. survey, And hail with music its propitious ray. And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake. This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! |