As many more Manillio forced to yield, And march'd a victor from the verdant field. Him Basto follow'd, but his fate more hard Proves the just victim of his royal rage. 60 Ev'n mighty Pam, that kings and queens o'erthrew, And mow'd down armies in the fights of Loo, Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid, Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade. Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; Now to the Baron Fate inclines the field. His warlike amazon her host invades, Th' imperial consort of the crown of Spades. The Club's black tyrant first her victim died, Spite of his haughty mien and barb'rous pride: 70 What boots the regal circle on his head, His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread; That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And of all monarchs only grasps the globe? The Baron now his Diamonds pours Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near. 138 Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retired. 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 closed, 151 (But airy substance soon unites again). The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, for ever, and for ever! Here in a grotto shelter'd close from air, And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare, She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, But diff'ring far in figure and in face. Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd! With store of prayers for mornings, nights, and noons, Her hand is fill'd; her bosom with lampoons. 30 There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride; On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, Wrapt in a gown for sickness and for A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand. Then thus address'd the Power wayward Queen! 'Hail, 60 Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen: Who cause the proud their visits to delay, A nymph there is that all your power disdains, And thousands more in equal mirth maintains. But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace, Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, There she collects the force of female lungs, Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues. A Vial next she fills with fainting fears, Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears. The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away, Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day. Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found, Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound. 90 Full o'er their heads the swelling Bag he rent, And all the Furies issued at the vent. Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire. 'O wretched maid!' she spread her hands, and cried (While Hampton's echoes, 'Wretched maid!' replied), Was it for this you took such constant care The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare ? For this your locks in, paper durance bound? For this with torturing irons wreathed around? 100 For this with fillets strain'd your tender head, And bravely bore the double loads of lead ? fend? 'T will then be infamy to seem your friend! And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize, Exposed thro' crystal to the gazing eyes, And heighten'd by the diamond's circling |