Playful Poems Part 15

CANTO III.

Close by those meads, for ever crowned with flowers, Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers, There stands a structure of majestic frame, Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its name.

Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom 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; In various talk the instructive hours they pa.s.sed, 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; 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; The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; The merchant from the Exchange returns in peace, And the long labours of the toilet cease.

Belinda now whom thirst of fame invites, Burns to encounter two adventurous knights, At Ombre singly to decide their doom; {125} 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.

Soon as she spreads her hand, the aerial guard Descend, and sit on each important card: First Ariel, perched upon a Matador, Then each, according to the rank they bore; For sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.

Behold, four Kings in majesty revered, With h.o.a.ry whiskers and a forky beard; And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a flower, The expressive emblem of their softer power; Four Knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band, Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand; And particoloured troops, a shining train, Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.

The skilful Nymph reviews her force with care: "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.

As many more Manillio forced to yield, And marched a victor from the verdant field.

Him Basto followed, but his fate more hard Gained but one trump and one plebeian card.

With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, The h.o.a.ry Majesty of Spades appears, Puts forth one manly leg, to sight revealed, The rest, his many-coloured robe concealed.

The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, Proves the just victim of his royal rage.

Even mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'erthrew {126} And mowed down armies in the fights of Lu, Sad chance of war! now dest.i.tute of aid, Falls undistinguished 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 barbarous pride; 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; The embroidered King who shows but half his face, And his refulgent Queen, with powers combined Of broken troops an easy conquest find.

Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, With throngs promiscuous strow the level green.

Thus when dispersed a routed army runs, Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons, With like confusion different nations fly, Of various habit, and of various dye, The pierced battalions disunited fall, 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; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille.

And now (as oft in some distempered State) On one nice trick depends the general fate.

An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen Lurked in her hand, and mourned 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 ca.n.a.ls reply.

Oh thoughtless mortals, ever blind to fate, Too soon dejected, and too soon elate!

Sudden, these honours shall be s.n.a.t.c.hed away, And cursed for ever this victorious day.

For lo, the board with cups and spoons is crowned, The berries crackle, and the mill turns round; On shining altars of j.a.pan they raise The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze: From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tide: 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 sipped, the fuming liquor fanned, Some o'er her lap their careful plumes displayed, Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.

Coffee (which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes) Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain New stratagems the radiant Lock to gain.

Ah cease, rash youth! desist ere 'tis too late, Fear the just G.o.ds, 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, How soon they find fit instruments of ill!

Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace A two-edged weapon from her shining case: So ladies in romance a.s.sist their knight, Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.

He takes the gift with reverence, 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, A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair; And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear; Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near.

Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought The close recesses of the virgin's thought; As on the nosegay in her breast reclined, He watched the ideas rising in her mind, Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art, An earthly lover lurking at her heart.

Amazed, confused, he found his power expired, Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired.

The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide, To inclose the lock; now joins it, to divide.

Even then, before the fatal engine closed, A wretched sylph too fondly interposed; 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 flashed the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend the affrighted skies.

Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last; Or when rich china vessels fallen from high, In glittering dust and painted fragments lie!

"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, {129} 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 a.s.signations give, So long my honour, name, and praise shall live!

What time would spare, from steel receives its date, And monuments, like men, submit to fate!

Steel could the labour of the G.o.ds destroy, And strike to dust th' imperial towers of Troy; Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, And hew triumphal arches to the ground.

What wonder then, fair nymph! thy hairs should feel The conquering force of unresisting steel?

CANTO IV.

But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppressed, And secret pa.s.sions laboured in her breast.

Not youthful kings in battle seized alive, Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, Not ardent lovers robbed of all their bliss, Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss, Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinned awry, E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravished hair.

For that sad moment when the sylphs withdrew.

And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite, As ever sullied the fair face of light, Down to the central earth, his proper scene, Repaired to search the gloomy cave of Spleen.

Swift on his sooty pinions flits the gnome, And in a vapour reached the dismal dome.

No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, The dreaded east is all the wind that blows.

Here in a grotto, sheltered close from air, And screened in shades from day's detested glare, She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head. {130}

Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place, But differing far in figure and in face.

Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid, Her wrinkled form in black and white arrayed; With store of prayers, for mornings, nights, and noons, Her hand is filled; her bosom with lampoons.

There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, Practised to lisp, and hang the head aside, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride, On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, Wrapped in a gown, for sickness, and for show.

The fair ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease.

A constant vapour o'er the palace flies; Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise; Dreadful as hermit's dreams in haunted shades, Or bright as visions of expiring maids.

Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires: Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, And crystal domes and angels in machines.

Unnumbered throngs on every side are seen, Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen.

Here living tea-pots stand, one arm held out, One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: A pipkin there, like Homer's tripod walks; Here sighs a jar, and there a goose-pie talks; Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works, And maids turned bottles call aloud for corks.

Safe past the Gnome, through this fantastic band, A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand.

Then thus addressed the power: "Hail, wayward Queen!

Who rule the s.e.x to fifty from fifteen: Parent of vapours and of female wit, Who give the hysteric, or poetic fit, On various tempers act by various ways, Make some take physic, others scribble plays; Who cause the proud their visits to delay, And send the G.o.dly in a pet to pray.

A nymph there is, that all thy 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, Like citron-waters matrons' cheeks inflame, Or change complexions at a losing game; If e'er with airy horns I planted heads, Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds, Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude, Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude, Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease, Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease: Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin, That single act gives half the world the spleen."