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 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, And swells her breast with conquests yet to come. Straight the three bands prepare in arras to join, Each band the number of the sacred Nine. 30 Soon as she spreads her hand, the 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, 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 particolour'd 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. 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, 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 Even 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; Now to the Baron fate inclines the field. His warlike Amazon her host invades, The imperial consort of the crown of Spades. The Club's black tyrant first her victim died, Spite of his haughty mien, and barbarous 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?