All share the toil: while some the bellows ply,
Others with feathers teach the shafts to fly:
Some with joint force whirl round the stony wheel,
Where streams the sparkling fire from temper'd steel;
Some point their arrows with the nicest skill,
And with the warlike store their quivers fill.
A different toil another forge employs;
Here the loud hammer fashions female toys;
Hence is the fair with ornament supply'd,
Hence sprung the glitt'ring implements of pride;
Each trinket that adorns the modern dame,
First to these little artists ow'd its frame.
Here an unfinish'd di'mond crosslet lay,
To which soft lovers adoration pay;
There was the polish'd crystal bottle seen,
That with quick scents revives the modish spleen: 120
Here the yet rude unjointed snuff-box lies,
Which serves the rally'd fop for smart replies;
There piles of paper rose in gilded reams,
The future records of the lover's flames:
Here clouded canes 'midst heaps of toys are found,
And inlaid tweezer-cases strow the ground:
There stands the toilette, nursery of charms,
Completely furnish'd with bright beauty's arms;
The patch, the powder-box, pulville, perfumes,
Pins, paint, a flattering glass, and black-lead combs,
The toilsome hours in diff'rent labour slide, 311
Some work the file, and some the graver guide;.
From the loud anvil the quick blow rebounds,
And their rais'd arms descend in tuneful sounds.
Thus when Semiramis, in ancient days,
Bade Babylon her mighty bulwarks raise,
A swarm of lab'rers diff'rent tasks attend:
Here pullies make the pond'rcus cak ascend,
With echoing strokes the cragged quarry groans,
While there the chissel forms the shapeless stones; 140
The weighty mallet deals resounding blows,
Till the proud battlements her tow'rs enclose.
Now Venus mounts her car: she shakes the reins,
And steers her turtles to Cytherea's plains;
Straight to the grot with graceful step she goes,
Her loose ambrosial hair behind her flows;
The swelling bellows heave for breath no more,
All drop their silent hammers on the floor;
In deep suspence the mighty labour stands,
While thus the Goddess spoke her mild commands.
Industrious Loves! your present toils forbear, 151
A more important task demands your care;
Long has the scheme employ'd my thoughtful mind,
By judgment ripen'd, and by time refin'd. -
That glorious bird have ye not often seen
Who draws the car of the celestial Queen?
Have ye not oft' survey'd his varying dyes,
His tail all gilded o'er with Argus' eyes?
Have ye not seen him in the sunny day
Unfurl his plumes, and all his pride display,
Then suddenly contract his dazzling train,
And with long-trailing feathers sweep the plain?
Learn from this hint, let this instruct your art,
Thin taper sticks must from one centré part;
Let these into the quadrant's form divide,
The spreading ribs with snowy paper hide;
Here shall the pencil bid its colours flow,
And make a miniature creation grow:
Let the machine in equal foldings close,
And now its plaited surface wide dispose;
So shall the fair her idle hand employ,
And grace each motion with the restless toy,
With various play bid grateful zephys rise,
While love in ev'ry grateful zephyr flies.
The master Cupid traces out the lines,
And with judicious hand the draught designs;
Th' expecting Loves with joy the model view,
And the joint labour eagerly pursue.
Some slit their arrows with the nicest art,
And into sticks convert the shiver'd dart;
The breathing bellows wake the sleeping fire,
Blow off the cinders, and the sparks aspire;
Their arrows' point they soften in the flame,
And sounding hammers break its barbed frame:
Of this the little pin they neatly mould,
From whence their arms the spreading sticks unfold:
In equal plaits they now the paper bend,
And at just distance the wide ribs extend,
Then on the frame they mount the limber screen,
And finish instantly the new machine.
The Goddess, pleas'd, the curious work receives, Remounts her chariot, and the grotto leaves; With the light Fan she moves the yieldîng air, And gales, till then unknown, play round the fair. Unhappy Lovers! how will you withstand, When these new arms shall grace your charmer's hand? In ancient times, when maids in thought were pure, When eyes were artless, and the look demure, When the wide ruff the well-turn'd neck enclos❜d, And heaving breasts within the stays repos'd, When the close hood conceal'd the modest ear, Ere black-lead combs disown'd the virgin's hair, Then in the muff unactive fingers lay,
Nor taught the Fan in fickle forms to play.
How are the sex improv'd in am'rous arts! What new-found snares they bait for human hearts! When kindling war the ravag'd globe ran o'er, And fatten'd thirsty plains with human gore, At first, the brandish'd arm the jav❜lin threw, Or sent wing'd arrows from the twanging yew; In the bright air the dreadful falchion shone, Or whistling slings dismiss'd th' uncertain stone. Now men those less destructive arms despise, Wide-wasteful death from thund'ring cannon flies; One hour with more battalions strows the plain Than were of yore in weekly battles slain.
So love with fatal airs the nymph supplies,
Her dress disposes, and directs her eyes.
The bosom now its panting beauties shows,
Th' experienc'd eye resistless glances throws;
Now vary'd patches wander o'er the face,
And strike each gazer with a borrow'd grace;
The fickle head-dress sinks, and now aspires,
A tow'ry front of lace on branching wires:
The curling hair in tortur'd ringlets flows,
Or round the face in labour'd order grows.
How shall I soar, and on unweary wing
Trace varying habits upwards to their spring?
What force of thought, what numbers can express
Th' inconstant equipage of female dress?
How the strait stays the slender waist constrain,
How to adjust the mantua's sweeping train?
What fancy can the petticoat surround,
With the capacious hoop of whalebone bound?
But stay, presumptuous Muse! nor boldly dare
The toilette's sacred mysteries declare;
Let a just distance be to beauty paid;
None here must enter but the trusty maid.
Should you the wardrobe's magazine rehearse,
And glossy manteaus rustle in thy verse;
Should you the rich brocaded suit unfold,
Where rising flow'rs grow stiff with frosted gold,
The dazzled Muse would from her subject stray,
And in a maze of fashions lose her way.
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