Belinda next advanc'd with rapid stride
A compound strange, of Vanity and Pride
Around her face no wanton Cupids play,
Her tawny skin, defies the God of Day.
Loud was her laugh, undaunted was her look,
And folly seem'd to dictate what she spoke.
In vain the Poet's and musician's art,
Combine to move the Passions of the heart,
Belinda's voice like grating hinges groans,
And in harsh thunder roars a lover's moans.