The merchant from th’ 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 arms to join,
  Each band the number of the sacred nine. 
  Soon as she spreads her hand, th’ aerial guard
  Descend, and sit on each important card: 
  First, Ariel perched 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;
  Four knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band,
  Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand;
  And parti-coloured 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 moved 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. 
  As many more Manillio forced to yield
  And marched a victor from the verdant field. 
  Him Basto followed, but his fate more hard
  Gained 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 revealed,
  The rest, his many-coloured robe concealed. 
  The rebel knave, who dares his prince engage,
  Proves the just victim of his royal rage. 
  Even mighty Pam, that kings and queens o’erthrew,
  And mowed down armies in the fights of Loo,
  Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
  Falls undistinguished 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. 
  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?

  The baron now his diamonds pours apace;
  Th’ embroidered king who shows but half his face,
  And his refulgent queen, with powers combined,
  Of broken troops an easy conquest find. 
  Clubs, diamonds, hearts, in wild disorder seen,
  With throngs promiscuous strew the level green. 
  Thus when dispersed a routed army runs,
  Of Asia’s troops, and Afric’s sable sons,
  With like confusion different nations fly,
  Of various habit, and of various dye,
  The pierced battalions disunited fall,
  In heaps on heaps; one fate o’erwhelms them all.