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To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
All side in parties, and begin th' attack;
Fans clap, folks rufsle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and Heroines’ shouts confus’dly rise, 41
And base and treble voices strike the kies.
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 resound :
Earth shakes her noddingtow'rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts ftart at the flash of day! 52

Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clap'd his glad wings, and fate to view the fight:

:

VER. 45. So wben bold Homer] Hemer, Il, xx.

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

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

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

Prop'd on their bodkin spears, the Sprites survey 55 The growing combat, or affift the fray.

While thro' the press enrag'd. Thalestris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A Beau and Witling perith'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in fong. 60 “ O cruel nymph! a living death I bear, Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk befide his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, “ Those eyes are made fo killing—was his last. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies 65 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 smild to see the doughty hero slain, But, at her smile, the Beau reviv'd again. 70

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 fide ; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subfide.

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

IMITATIONS. VER. 64. Those eyes are made fo killing] The words of a Song in the Opera of Camilla, VER. 65. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies] Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis, Ad vada Mxandri concinit albus olor.

Ov. Ep.

See fierce Belinda on the Baron fies,

75 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 endud, 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 duit. 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 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 the gingled, and the whistle blew ; Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,

95 Which long the wore, and now Belinda wears.)

IMITATIONS,

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

VER. 89. The same, his ancient personage to deck,] In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer, Il, ü,

100

Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) 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 rebound.
Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain

105 Roard for the handkerchief that caus’d his pain. But see how oft ambitious aims are cross’d, And chiefs contend till all the prize is loft! The Lock, obtain’d with guilt, and kept with pain, In ev'ry place is sought, but fought in vain : With such a prize no mortal must be blest, So heav'n decrees ! with heav'n who can contest?

Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treasur’d there. There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115 And Beau's in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promises, and fick man's pray'rs, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

IIO

I 20

114. Since all things lof] Vid. Ariosto, Canto xxxiv,

But trust the Muse – she saw it upward rise, Tho' mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes : (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, To Proculus alone confess'd in view)

126 A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. Not Berenice's Locks first rofe so bright, The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light. 130 The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies.

This the Beau monde shall from the Mall survey, And hail with music its propitious ray. This the blest Lover shall for Venus take, 135 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake. This Partridge foon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes; And hence th' egregious wizard fall foredocm The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 140

Ver. 137. This Partridge soon] John Partridge was a ridiculous Star-gazer, who in his Almanacks every year never faild to predict the downfall of the Pope, and the King of France, then at war with the English.

VARIATIONS. VÆR. 131. The Sylphs bebold] These two lines added for the same reason to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem.

IMITATIONS.
Ver. 128.

Flammiferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem
Stella micat.

Ovid.

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