To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.

41

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 fkies.
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:
'Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound:
Earth fhakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

52

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

VER. 45. So when bold Homer] Homer, Il, xx.
VARIATIONS.

VER. 37. To arms, to arms!] From hence the first Edition goes on to the Conclufion, except a very few short infertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem. VER. 53. Triumphant Umbriel] Thefe four lines added, for the reafon before mentioned.

IMITATION S.

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

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

While thro' the prefs 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 fong. "O cruel nymph! a living death I bear, Cry'd Dapperwit, and funk befide his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft, "Those eyes are made fo killing-was his last. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies Th' expiring Swan, and as he fings he dies.

60

65

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariffa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown: She fmil'd to fee the doughty hero slain, But, at her fmile, the Beau reviv'd again.

Now Jove fufpends his golden scales 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.

70

VER. 71. Now Jove etc.] Vid. Homer II. viii. and Virg. Æn. xii.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 64. Trofe eyes are made fo killing] The words of a Song in the Opera of Camilla.

VER. 65. Thus on Meander's flow'ry margin lies]

Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,
Ad vada Mxandri concinit albus oler.

4

Ov. Ep.

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 just,
The pungent grains of titillating duft.

75

80

90

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 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 whistle next it grew,
The bells the gingled, and the whistle blew ;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)

IMITATIONS.

95

VER. 83. The Gnomes direct,] Thefe two lines added for the

above reafon.

VER. 89. The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,] In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's fceptre in Homer, Il. ii.

100

105

Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe! Thou by fome other fhalt be laid as low. Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind: All that I dread is leaving you behind! Rather than fo, ah let me ftill furvive, And burn in Cupid's flames-but burn alive. Reftore the Lock! fhe cries; and all around Reftore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in fo loud a ftrain Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain. But fee 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 fought, but fought in vain : With fuch a prize no mortal must be blest, So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can conteft? Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treafur'd there. There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115 And Beau's in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes. There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promifes, and fick man's pray'rs, The fmiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea, Dry'd' butterflies, and tomes of cafuiftry.

114. Since all things loft] Vid. Ariofto, Canto xxxiv.

110

120

But truft the Mufe- fhe faw 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 confefs'd in view)

A fudden Star, it fhot thro' liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.

Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,

126

The heav'ns befpangling with dishevel'd light. 130 The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,

And pleas'd purfue its progress thro' the skies.

This the Beau monde shall from the Mall furvey,

And hail with mufic its propitious ray.

This the bleft Lover fhall for Venus take,
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 fhall foredocm
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

135

140

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

VARIATIONS.

VER. 131. The Sylphs behold] These two lines added for the fame reafon to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem.

VER. 128.

Stella micat.

IMITATIONS.

Flammiferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem

Ovid.