Part 2



NOT with more Glories, in th' Etherial Plain,

The Sun first rises o'er the purpled Main,

Than issuing forth, the Rival of his Beams

Lanch'd on the Bosom of the Silver _Thames_.

Fair Nymphs, and well-drest Youths around her shone,

But ev'ry Eye was fix'd on her alone.

On her white Breast a sparkling _Cross_ she wore,

Which _Jews_ might kiss, and Infidels adore.



Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose,

Quick as her Eyes, and as unfix'd as those:		2.10

Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends,

Oft she rejects, but never once offends.

Bright as the Sun, her Eyes the Gazers strike,

And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.

Yet graceful Ease, and Sweetness void of Pride,

Might hide her Faults, if _Belles_ had faults to hide:

If to her share some Female Errors fall,

Look on her Face, and you'll forget 'em all.



  This Nymph, to the Destruction of Mankind,

Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind		2.20

In equal Curls, and well conspir'd to deck

With shining Ringlets her smooth Iv'ry Neck.

Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains,

And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains.

With hairy Sprindges we the Birds betray,

Slight Lines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey,



Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race insnare,

And Beauty draws us with a single Hair.



  Th' Adventrous _Baron_ the bright Locks admir'd,

He saw, he wish'd, and to the Prize aspir'd:		2.30

Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way,

By Force to ravish, or by Fraud betray;

For when Success a Lover's Toil attends,

Few ask, if Fraud or Force attain'd his Ends.



  For this, e're _Phoebus_ rose, he had implor'd

Propitious Heav'n, and ev'ry Pow'r ador'd,

But chiefly _Love_---to _Love_ an Altar built,

Of twelve vast _French_ Romances, neatly gilt.

There lay three Garters, half a Pair of Gloves;

And all the Trophies of his former Loves.		2.40

With tender _Billet-doux_ he lights the Pyre,

And breathes three am'rous Sighs to raise the Fire.

Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent Eyes

Soon to obtain, and long possess the Prize:

The Pow'rs gave Ear, and granted half his Pray'r,

The rest, the Winds dispers'd in empty Air.



  But now secure the painted Vessel glides,

The Sun-beams trembling on the floating Tydes,

While melting Musick steals upon the Sky,

And soften'd Sounds along the Waters die.		2.50

Smooth flow the Waves, the Zephyrs gently play

_Belinda_ smil'd, and all the World was gay.

All but the _Sylph_----With careful Thoughts opprest,

Th' impending Woe sate heavy on his Breast.

He summons strait his Denizens of Air;

The lucid Squadrons round the Sails repair:

Soft o'er the Shrouds Aerial Whispers breathe,

That seem'd but _Zephyrs_ to the Train beneath.

Some to the Sun their Insect-Wings unfold,

Waft on the Breeze, or sink in Clouds of Gold.		2.60

Transparent Forms, too fine for mortal Sight,

Their fluid Bodies half dissolv'd in Light.

Loose to the Wind their airy Garments flew,

Thin glitt'ring Textures of the filmy Dew;

Dipt in the richest Tincture of the Skies,

Where Light disports in ever-mingling Dies,

While ev'ry Beam new transient Colours flings,

Colours that change whene'er they wave their Wings.

Amid the Circle, on the gilded Mast,

Superior by the Head, was _Ariel_ plac'd;		2.70

His Purple Pinions opening to the Sun,

He rais'd his Azure Wand, and thus begun.



  Ye _Sylphs_ and _Sylphids_, to your Chief give Ear,

_Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves_, and _Daemons_ hear!

Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign'd,

By Laws Eternal, to th' Aerial Kind.

Some in the Fields of purest _AEther_ play,

And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day.

Some guide the Course of wandring Orbs on high,

Or roll the Planets thro' the boundless Sky.		2.80

Some less refin'd, beneath the Moon's pale Light

Hover, and catch the shooting stars by Night;

Or suck the Mists in grosser Air below,

Or dip their Pinions in the painted Bow,

Or brew fierce Tempests on the wintry Main,

Or o'er the Glebe distill the kindly Rain.

Others on Earth o'er human Race preside,

Watch all their Ways, and all their Actions guide:

Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own,

And guard with Arms Divine the _British Throne_.	2.90



  Our humbler Province is to tend the Fair,

Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious Care.

To save the Powder from too rude a Gale,

Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale,

To draw fresh Colours from the vernal Flow'rs,

To steal from Rainbows ere they drop in Show'rs

A brighter Wash; to curl their waving Hairs,

Assist their Blushes, and inspire their Airs;

Nay oft, in Dreams, Invention we bestow,

To change a _Flounce_, or add a _Furbelo_.		2.100



  This Day, black Omens threat the brightest Fair

That e'er deserv'd a watchful Spirit's Care;

Some dire Disaster, or by Force, or Slight,

But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in Night.

Whether the Nymph shall break _Diana_'s Law,

Or some frail _China_ Jar receive a Flaw,

Or stain her Honour, or her new Brocade,

Forget her Pray'rs, or miss a Masquerade,

Or lose her Heart, or Necklace, at a Ball;

Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that _Shock_ must fall.	2.110

Haste then ye Spirits! to your Charge repair;

The flutt'ring Fan be _Zephyretta_'s Care;

The Drops to thee, _Brillante_, we consign;

And _Momentilla_, let the Watch be thine;

Do thou, _Crispissa_, tend her fav'rite Lock;

_Ariel_ himself shall be the Guard of _Shock_.



  To Fifty chosen _Sylphs_, of special Note,

We trust th' important Charge, the _Petticoat_:

Oft have we known that sev'nfold Fence to fail;

Tho' stiff with Hoops, and arm'd with Ribs of Whale.	2.120

Form a strong Line about the Silver Bound,

And guard the wide Circumference around.



  Whatever spirit, careless of his Charge,

His Post neglects, or leaves the Fair at large,

Shall feel sharp Vengeance soon o'ertake his Sins,

Be stopt in _Vials_, or transfixt with _Pins_;

Or plung'd in Lakes of bitter _Washes_ lie,

Or wedg'd whole Ages in a _Bodkin's_ Eye:

_Gums_ and _Pomatums_ shall his Flight restrain,

While clog'd he beats his silken Wings in vain;		2.130

Or Alom-_Stypticks_ with contracting Power

Shrink his thin Essence like a rivell'd Flower.

Or as _Ixion_ fix'd, the Wretch shall feel

The giddy Motion of the whirling Mill,

In Fumes of burning Chocolate shall glow,

And tremble at the Sea that froaths below!



  He spoke; the Spirits from the Sails descend;

Some, Orb in Orb, around the Nymph extend,

Some thrid the mazy Ringlets of her Hair,

Some hang upon the Pendants of her Ear;			2.140

With beating Hearts the dire Event they wait,

Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate.

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