The Rival Beauties

From gay St. James's Myra was return'd, Within her breast the flames of envy burn'd, Reclin'd upon the couch she sought relief, But the soft plumage added to her grief; Now to the citron cordial she applies, The cordial too its usual balm denies; Will not kind Morpheus one short nap bestow? He never perches on a breast of woe. What! has her peerless face betray'd some flaws? Or does some mighty loss the conflict cause? Has some dire pimple, to disturb her eye, Made an irruption where the lillies lie? Smokes there less incense at her virgin shrine? Or crowns some rival-toast th' enamour'd wine?

What can she dread, whose every charm subdues The garter'd noble—and invites the muse? Not one of those, nor all of them conjoin'd Have ruffled the composure of her mind; But at the court she saw, what tongue can tell! Worse than Quevedo's visionary hell— A female implement! and at the sight Her spirit sunk—she swoon'd away for spite!

Clarinda's hand the glittering pageant grac'd, With which she led the beaux, and men of taste; Discarded Myra saw the envied prize; She saw—and curst it with her heart and eyes.

So, even at church, if some new dress arrive, The blazing meteor galls the female hive; Each eye, arrested, on the fashion glotes, And every woman imprecates, and doats; The clerk's proud wife neglects her husband's song, And comminations fly from every tongue. A fan! the mighty cause of Myra's care, For beauties envy trifles light as air! The fashion dawn'd from madam Pompadour, Newly imported to the British shore:

Clarinda, to improve her magazine Of charms—had lately at the toyshop been, Searching for trinkets, she the bawble found, And seiz'd the product of a foreign ground, Resolving to transplant it to the court, She bought, and paid a hundred guineas for't; Arm'd with this bright umbrella she appear'd, And, wafted by its gales, to conquest steer'd; A hecatomb of hearts were soon resign'd To young Clarinda's eyes intrench'd behind; While stars and garters emulating strove Which should croud foremost to present his love, His vows thro' this gay medium to enhance; Such are thy fashionable tools—oh France! While thus Clarinda's innovating pride From Myra's charms drew dukes and lords aside, Like a discarded statesman, in disgrace The fair one to the victor left the place; Thus, like a beaten general, forc'd to yield, She quits the glories of the long-fought field: In sullen discontent she seeks the gloom To meditate revenge within her room. At length to Venus with uplifted eyes, And fervent prayer, the baffled maid applies:

" Oh! Venus, by thy myrtles and thy doves, " And every symbol of the Paphian groves, " By all thy bright regalia I implore, " Oh! grant one favour to thy Myra more; " Let not Clarinda such a conquest boast, " Nor lead of nobles, thus, her shining host: " For lo! what stars, like silver Cynthia's train, " Attend her triumph, and support her reign! " See, how each garter, like the Zodiac, vies " To grace the blue horizon of her eyes! " Debase her trinket, her new-fangled toy, " And crush the infant dawning of her joy, " Give me, by some rich implement, to win " The men—tho' 'twere a diamond—headed pin: " Then shall a thousand hearts, a thousand days, " With sweetest incense on thy altars blaze. " Then, for each lover which thy gift imparts, " A hymn shall carol to the God of Hearts."

Propitious Venus heard the maiden's prayer, And sent a pleasing dream to sooth her care: Fair to her raptur'd fancy there arose A crimson orb, but richer far than those Which stately cardinals in triumph wear, The boon and earnest of the papal chair; Its ample brim three rows of sapphires grac'd, The cestus, as a ribband, gave it taste: A thousand brilliants, here and there display'd, With blushing rubies, lent it light and shade. In emerald cut, a king imperial sate Beneath a golden canopy of state, Powder'd with hieroglyphics of his reign, As undisputed monarch of the main. The consort of his throne was seated nigh In pearl, and clearest crystal form'd each eye; Attending nobles the regalia bore, The crown and sceptre both of massy ore. In solemn order the procession moves, A prelate waits to crown their happy loves. Why should we here describe, what all have seen, The coronation of a king and queen? Or why attempt in colours to display That state, when George and Charlotte blest the day.

Dazzled with lustre, Myra now awakes, And from the visionary model takes A hat, which soon eclips'd Clarinda's fan, Nor left the fair competitor a man. With this she claims Love's empire as her own, Reigns absolute, nor envies George his throne.