| |
| CLOSE by those meads, for ever crown’d with flowers, | |
| Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers | |
| There stands a structure of majestic frame, | |
| Which from the neighb’ring Hampton takes its name. | |
| Here Britain’s statesmen oft the fall foredoom | 5 |
| Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home; | |
| Here, thou, great ANNA! whom three realms obey, | |
| Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea. | |
| Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort, | |
| To taste awhile the pleasures of a court; | 10 |
| In various talk th’ instructive hours they past, | |
| Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; | |
| One speaks the glory of the British Queen, | |
| And one describes a charming Indian screen; | |
| A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; | 15 |
| At every word a reputation dies. | |
| Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, | |
| With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. | |
| Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day, | |
| The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; | 20 |
| The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, | |
| And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; | |
| The merchant from th’ Exchange returns in peace, | |
| And the long labours of the toilet cease. | |
| Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, | 25 |
| Burns to encounter two adventurous knights, | |
| At Ombre singly to decide their doom, | |
| And swells her breast with conquests yet to come. | |
| Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join, | |
| Each band the number of the sacred Nine. | 30 |
| Soon as she spreads her hand, th’ aërial guard | |
| Descend, and sit on each important card: | |
| First Ariel perch’d upon a Matadore, | |
| Then each according to the rank they bore; | |
| For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, | 35 |
| Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place. | |
| Behold four Kings in majesty revered, | |
| With hoary whiskers and a forky beard; | |
| And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain a flower | |
| Th’ expressive emblem of their softer power; | 40 |
| Four Knaves, in garbs succinct, a trusty band, | |
| Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand | |
| And party-colour’d troops, a shining train, | |
| Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain. | |
| The skilful nymph reviews her force with care; | 45 |
| ‘Let Spades be trumps!’ she said, and trumps they were. | |
| Now move to war her sable Matadores, | |
| In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors. | |
| Spadillio first, unconquerable lord! | |
| Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board. | 50 |
| 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 | |
| Gain’d but one trump and one plebeian card. | |
| With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, | 55 |
| The hoary Majesty of Spades appears, | |
| Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal’d; | |
| The rest his many colour’d robe conceal’d. | |
| The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, | |
| 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; | 65 |
| 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 apace; | 75 |
| Th’ embroider’d King who shows but half his face, | |
| And his refulgent Queen, with powers combin’d, | |
| Of broken troops an easy conquest find. | |
| Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, | |
| With throngs promiscuous strew the level green. | 80 |
| Thus when dispers’d a routed army runs, | |
| Of Asia’s troops, and Afric’s sable sons, | |
| With like confusion diff’rent nations fly, | |
| Of various habit, and of various dye; | |
| The pierced battalions disunited fall | 85 |
| In heaps on heaps; one fate o’erwhelms them all. | |
| The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, | |
| And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts. | |
| At this, the blood the virgin’s cheek forsook, | |
| A livid paleness spreads o’er all her look; | 90 |
| She sees, and trembles at th’ approaching ill, | |
| Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. | |
| And now (as oft in some distemper’d state) | |
| On one nice trick depends the gen’ral fate! | |
| An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen | 95 |
| Lurk’d in her hand, and mourn’d his captive Queen. | |
| He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, | |
| And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. | |
| The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the sky; | |
| The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. | 100 |
| Oh thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate, | |
| Too soon dejected, and too soon elate: | |
| Sudden these honours shall be snatch’d away, | |
| And curs’d for ever this victorious day. | |
| For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crown’d, | 105 |
| The berries crackle, and the mill turns round; | |
| On shining altars of japan they raise | |
| The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze: | |
| From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, | |
| While China’s earth receives the smoking tide. | 110 |
| At once they gratify their scent and taste, | |
| And frequent cups prolong the rich repast. | |
| Straight hover round the Fair her airy band; | |
| Some, as she sipp’d, the fuming liquor fann’d, | |
| Some o’er her lap their careful plumes display’d, | 115 |
| Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade. | |
| Coffee (which makes the politician wise, | |
| And see thro’ all things with his half-shut eyes) | |
| Sent up in vapors to the Baron’s brain | |
| New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. | 120 |
| Ah, cease, rash youth! desist ere ’t is too late, | |
| Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla’s fate! | |
| Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air, | |
| She dearly pays for Nisus’ injured hair! | |
| But when to mischief mortals bend their will, | 125 |
| How soon they find fit instruments of ill! | |
| Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace | |
| A two-edg’d weapon from her shining case: | |
| So ladies in romance assist their knight, | |
| Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. | 130 |
| He takes the gift with rev’rence, and extends | |
| The little engine on his fingers’ ends; | |
| This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread, | |
| As o’er the fragrant steams she bends her head. | |
| Swift to the Lock a thousand sprites repair; | 135 |
| A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair; | |
| And thrice they twitch’d the diamond in her ear; | |
| Thrice she look’d back, and thrice the foe drew near. | |
| Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought | |
| The close recesses of the virgin’s thought: | 140 |
| As on the nosegay in her breast reclin’d, | |
| He watch’d th’ ideas rising in her mind, | |
| Sudden he view’d, in spite of all her art, | |
| An earthly Lover lurking at her heart. | |
| Amazed, confused, he found his power expired, | 145 |
| 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, | |
| A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed; | 150 |
| Fate urged the shears, and cut the Sylph in twain | |
| (But airy substance soon unites again). | |
| The meeting points the sacred hair dissever | |
| From the fair head, for ever, and for ever! | |
| Then flash’d the living lightning from her eyes, | 155 |
| And screams of horror rend th’ affrighted skies. | |
| Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast, | |
| When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last; | |
| Or when rich China vessels, fall’n from high, | |
| In glitt’ring dust and painted fragments lie! | 160 |
| ‘Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine,’ | |
| The Victor cried, ‘the glorious prize is mine! | |
| While fish in streams, or birds delight in air, | |
| Or in a coach and six the British Fair, | |
| As long as Atalantis shall be read, | 165 |
| Or the small pillow grace a lady’s bed, | |
| While visits shall be paid on solemn days, | |
| When numerous wax-lights in bright order blaze: | |
| While nymphs take treats, or assignations give, | |
| So long my honour, name, and praise shall live! | 170 |
| What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date, | |
| And monuments, like men, submit to Fate! | |
| Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy, | |
| And strike to dust th’ imperial towers of Troy; | |
| Steel could the works of mortal pride confound | 175 |
| And hew triumphal arches to the ground. | |
| What wonder, then, fair Nymph! thy hairs should feel | |
| The conquering force of unresisted steel?’ | |
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