<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341106" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rape of the Lock</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Part 1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs,<br>What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things,<br>I sing -- This Verse to C---, Muse! is due;<br>This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:<br>Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,<br>If She inspire, and He approve my Lays.<br>Say what strange Motive, Goddess! cou'd compel<br>A well-bred Lord t'assault a gentle Belle?<br>Oh say what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd,<br>Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord? <br>And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then?<br>And lodge such daring Souls in Little Men?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sol thro' white Curtains shot a tim'rous Ray,<br>And op'd those Eyes that must eclipse the Day;<br>Now Lapdogs give themselves the rowzing Shake,<br>And sleepless Lovers, just at Twelve, awake:<br>Thrice rung the Bell, the Slipper knock'd the Ground,<br>And the press'd Watch return'd a silver Sound.<br>Belinda still her downy Pillow prest, <br>Her Guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy Rest. <br>'Twas he had summon'd to her silent Bed<br>The Morning-Dream that hover'd o'er her Head.<br>A Youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau,<br>(That ev'n in Slumber caus'd her Cheek to glow)<br>Seem'd to her Ear his winning Lips to lay,<br>And thus in Whispers said, or seem'd to say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish'd Care<br>Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air!<br>If e'er one Vision touch'd thy infant Thought,<br>Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught, <br>Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen,<br>The silver Token, and the circled Green,<br>Or Virgins visited by Angel-Pow'rs,<br>With Golden Crowns and Wreaths of heav'nly Flowers,<br>Hear and believe! thy own Importance know,<br>Nor bound thy narrow Views to Things below.<br>Some secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal'd,<br>To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd:<br>What tho' no Credit doubting Wits may give?<br>The Fair and Innocent shall still believe. <br>Know then, unnumbered Spirits round thee fly,<br>The light Militia of the lower Sky;<br>These, tho' unseen, are ever on the Wing,<br>Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the Ring.<br>Think what an Equipage thou hast in Air,<br>And view with scorn Two Pages and a Chair.<br>As now your own, our Beings were of old,<br>And once inclos'd in Woman's beauteous Mold;<br>Thence, by a soft Transition, we repair<br>From earthly Vehicles to these of Air. <br>Think not, when Woman's transient Breath is fled,<br>That all her Vanities at once are dead:<br>Succeeding Vanities she still regards,<br>And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the Cards.<br>Her Joy in gilded Chariots, when alive,<br>And Love of Ombre, after Death survive.<br>For when the Fair in all their Pride expire,<br>To their first Elements the Souls retire:<br>The Sprights of fiery Termagants in Flame<br>Mount up, and take a Salamander's Name.<br>Soft yielding Minds to Water glide away,<br>And sip with Nymphs, their Elemental Tea.<br>The graver Prude sinks downward to a Gnome,<br>In search of Mischief still on Earth to roam.<br>The light Coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair,<br>And sport and flutter in the Fields of Air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Know farther yet; Whoever fair and chaste<br>Rejects Mankind, is by some Sylph embrac'd:<br>For Spirits, freed from mortal Laws, with ease<br>Assume what Sexes and what Shapes they please. <br>What guards the Purity of melting Maids,<br>In Courtly Balls, and Midnight Masquerades,<br>Safe from the treach'rous Friend, and daring Spark,<br>The Glance by Day, the Whisper in the Dark;<br>When kind Occasion prompts their warm Desires,<br>When Musick softens, and when Dancing fires?<br>'Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials know,<br>Tho' Honour is the Word with Men below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some Nymphs there are, too conscious of their Face,<br>For Life predestin'd to the Gnomes Embrace.<br>These swell their Prospects and exalt their Pride,<br>When Offers are disdain'd, and Love deny'd.<br>Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant Brain;<br>While Peers and Dukes, and all their sweeping Train,<br>And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear,<br>And in soft Sounds, Your Grace salutes their Ear.<br>'Tis these that early taint the Female Soul,<br>Instruct the Eyes of young Coquettes to roll,<br>Teach Infants Cheeks a bidden Blush to know,<br>And little Hearts to flutter at a Beau. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft when the World imagine Women stray,<br>The Sylphs thro' mystick Mazes guide their Way,<br>Thro' all the giddy Circle they pursue,<br>And old Impertinence expel by new.<br>What tender Maid but must a Victim fall<br>To one Man's Treat, but for another's Ball?<br>When Florio speaks, what Virgin could withstand,<br>If gentle Damon did not squeeze her Hand?<br>With varying Vanities, from ev'ry Part,<br>They shift the moving Toyshop of their Heart; <br>Where Wigs with Wigs, with Sword-knots Sword-knots strive,<br>Beaus banish Beaus, and Coaches Coaches drive.<br>This erring Mortals Levity may call,<br>Oh blind to Truth! the Sylphs contrive it all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of these am I, who thy Protection claim,<br>A watchful Sprite, and Ariel is my Name.<br>Late, as I rang'd the Crystal Wilds of Air,<br>In the clear Mirror of thy ruling Star<br>I saw, alas! some dread Event impend,<br>E're to the Main this Morning Sun descend. <br>But Heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where:<br>Warn'd by thy Sylph, oh Pious Maid beware!<br>This to disclose is all thy Guardian can.<br>Beware of all, but most beware of Man!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long,<br>Leapt up, and wak'd his Mistress with his Tongue.<br>'Twas then Belinda, if Report say true,<br>Thy Eyes first open'd on a Billet-doux.<br>Wounds, Charms, and Ardors, were no sooner read,<br>But all the Vision vanish'd from thy Head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now, unveil'd, the Toilet stands display'd,<br>Each Silver Vase in mystic Order laid.<br>First, rob'd in White, the Nymph intent adores<br>With Head uncover'd, the cosmetic Pow'rs.<br>A heav'nly Image in the Glass appears,<br>To that she bends, to that her Eyes she rears;<br>Th' inferior Priestess, at her Altar's side,<br>Trembling, begins the sacred Rites of Pride.<br>Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once, and here<br>The various Off'rings of the World appear; <br>From each she nicely culls with curious Toil,<br>And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring Spoil.<br>This Casket India's glowing Gems unlocks,<br>And all Arabia breathes from yonder Box.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Tortoise here and Elephant unite,<br>Transform'd to Combs, the speckled and the white.<br>Here Files of Pins extend their shining Rows,<br>Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux.<br>Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms;<br>The Fair each moment rises in her Charms, <br>Repairs her Smiles, awakens ev'ry Grace,<br>And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face;<br>Sees by Degrees a purer Blush arise,<br>And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes.<br>The busy Sylphs surround their darling Care;<br>These set the Head, and those divide the Hair,<br>Some fold the Sleeve, while others plait the Gown;<br>And Betty's prais'd for Labours not her own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Part 2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">NOT with more Glories, in th' Etherial Plain,<br>The Sun first rises o'er the purpled Main,<br>Than issuing forth, the Rival of his Beams<br>Lanch'd on the Bosom of the Silver Thames.<br>Fair Nymphs, and well-drest Youths around her shone,<br>But ev'ry Eye was fix'd on her alone.<br>On her white Breast a sparkling Cross she wore,<br>Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.<br>Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose,<br>Quick as her Eyes, and as unfix'd as those: <br>Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends,<br>Oft she rejects, but never once offends.<br>Bright as the Sun, her Eyes the Gazers strike,<br>And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.<br>Yet graceful Ease, and Sweetness void of Pride,<br>Might hide her Faults, if Belles had faults to hide:<br>If to her share some Female Errors fall,<br>Look on her Face, and you'll forget 'em all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Nymph, to the Destruction of Mankind,<br>Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind<br>In equal Curls, and well conspir'd to deck<br>With shining Ringlets her smooth Iv'ry Neck.<br>Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains,<br>And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains.<br>With hairy Sprindges we the Birds betray,<br>Slight Lines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey,<br>Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race insnare,<br>And Beauty draws us with a single Hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Th' Adventrous Baron the bright Locks admir'd,<br>He saw, he wish'd, and to the Prize aspir'd: <br>Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way,<br>By Force to ravish, or by Fraud betray;<br>For when Success a Lover's Toil attends,<br>Few ask, if Fraud or Force attain'd his Ends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For this, e're Phoebus rose, he had implor'd<br>Propitious Heav'n, and ev'ry Pow'r ador'd,<br>But chiefly Love--to Love an Altar built,<br>Of twelve vast French Romances, neatly gilt.<br>There lay three Garters, half a Pair of Gloves;<br>And all the Trophies of his former Loves. <br>With tender Billet-doux he lights the Pyre,<br>And breathes three am'rous Sighs to raise the Fire.<br>Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent Eyes<br>Soon to obtain, and long possess the Prize:<br>The Pow'rs gave Ear, and granted half his Pray'r,<br>The rest, the Winds dispers'd in empty Air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now secure the painted Vessel glides,<br>The Sun-beams trembling on the floating Tydes,<br>While melting Musick steals upon the Sky,<br>And soften'd Sounds along the Waters die. <br>Smooth flow the Waves, the Zephyrs gently play<br>Belinda smil'd, and all the World was gay.<br>All but the Sylph---With careful Thoughts opprest,<br>Th' impending Woe sate heavy on his Breast.<br>He summons strait his Denizens of Air;<br>The lucid Squadrons round the Sails repair:<br>Soft o'er the Shrouds Aerial Whispers breathe,<br>That seem'd but Zephyrs to the Train beneath.<br>Some to the Sun their Insect-Wings unfold,<br>Waft on the Breeze, or sink in Clouds of Gold. <br>Transparent Forms, too fine for mortal Sight,<br>Their fluid Bodies half dissolv'd in Light.<br>Loose to the Wind their airy Garments flew,<br>Thin glitt'ring Textures of the filmy Dew;<br>Dipt in the richest Tincture of the Skies,<br>Where Light disports in ever-mingling Dies,<br>While ev'ry Beam new transient Colours flings,<br>Colours that change whene'er they wave their Wings.<br>Amid the Circle, on the gilded Mast,<br>Superior by the Head, was Ariel plac'd; <br>His Purple Pinions opening to the Sun,<br>He rais'd his Azure Wand, and thus begun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your Chief give Ear,<br>Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons hear!<br>Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign'd,<br>By Laws Eternal, to th' Aerial Kind.<br>Some in the Fields of purest AEther play,<br>And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day.<br>Some guide the Course of wandring Orbs on high,<br>Or roll the Planets thro' the boundless Sky. <br>Some less refin'd, beneath the Moon's pale Light<br>Hover, and catch the shooting stars by Night;<br>Or suck the Mists in grosser Air below,<br>Or dip their Pinions in the painted Bow,<br>Or brew fierce Tempests on the wintry Main,<br>Or o'er the Glebe distill the kindly Rain.<br>Others on Earth o'er human Race preside,<br>Watch all their Ways, and all their Actions guide:<br>Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own,<br>And guard with Arms Divine the British Throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our humbler Province is to tend the Fair,<br>Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious Care.<br>To save the Powder from too rude a Gale,<br>Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale,<br>To draw fresh Colours from the vernal Flow'rs,<br>To steal from Rainbows ere they drop in Show'rs<br>A brighter Wash; to curl their waving Hairs,<br>Assist their Blushes, and inspire their Airs;<br>Nay oft, in Dreams, Invention we bestow,<br>To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelo. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Day, black Omens threat the brightest Fair<br>That e'er deserv'd a watchful Spirit's Care;<br>Some dire Disaster, or by Force, or Slight,<br>But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in Night.<br>Whether the Nymph shall break Diana's Law,<br>Or some frail China Jar receive a Flaw,<br>Or stain her Honour, or her new Brocade,<br>Forget her Pray'rs, or miss a Masquerade,<br>Or lose her Heart, or Necklace, at a Ball;<br>Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall. <br>Haste then ye Spirits! to your Charge repair;<br>The flutt'ring Fan be Zephyretta's Care;<br>The Drops to thee, Brillante, we consign;<br>And Momentilla, let the Watch be thine;<br>Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite Lock;<br>Ariel himself shall be the Guard of Shock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Fifty chosen Sylphs, of special Note,<br>We trust th' important Charge, the Petticoat.<br>Oft have we known that sev'nfold Fence to fail;<br>Tho' stiff with Hoops, and arm'd with Ribs of Whale.<br>Form a strong Line about the Silver Bound,<br>And guard the wide Circumference around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whatever spirit, careless of his Charge,<br>His Post neglects, or leaves the Fair at large,<br>Shall feel sharp Vengeance soon o'ertake his Sins,<br>Be stopt in Vials, or transfixt with Pins.<br>Or plung'd in Lakes of bitter Washes lie,<br>Or wedg'd whole Ages in a Bodkin's Eye:<br>Gums and Pomatums shall his Flight restrain,<br>While clog'd he beats his silken Wings in vain; <br>Or Alom-Stypticks with contracting Power<br>Shrink his thin Essence like a rivell'd Flower.<br>Or as Ixion fix'd, the Wretch shall feel<br>The giddy Motion of the whirling Mill,<br>In Fumes of burning Chocolate shall glow,<br>And tremble at the Sea that froaths below!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spoke; the Spirits from the Sails descend;<br>Some, Orb in Orb, around the Nymph extend,<br>Some thrid the mazy Ringlets of her Hair,<br>Some hang upon the Pendants of her Ear; <br>With beating Hearts the dire Event they wait,<br>Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Part 3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">CLOSE by those Meads for ever crown'd with Flow'rs,<br>Where Thames with Pride surveys his rising Tow'rs,<br>There stands a Structure of Majestick Frame,<br>Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its Name.<br>Here Britain's Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom<br>Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home;<br>Here Thou, great Anna! whom three Realms obey,<br>Dost sometimes Counsel take--and sometimes Tea.<br>Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort,<br>To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court; <br>In various Talk th' instructive hours they past,<br>Who gave the Ball, or paid the Visit last:<br>One speaks the Glory of the British Queen,<br>And one describes a charming Indian Screen.<br>A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes;<br>At ev'ry Word a Reputation dies.<br>Snuff, or the Fan, supply each Pause of Chat,<br>With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mean while declining from the Noon of Day,<br>The Sun obliquely shoots his burning Ray; <br>The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign,<br>And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine;<br>The Merchant from th'exchange returns in Peace,<br>And the long Labours of the Toilette cease ----<br>Belinda now, whom Thirst of Fame invites,<br>Burns to encounter two adventrous Knights,<br>At Ombre singly to decide their Doom;<br>And swells her Breast with Conquests yet to come.<br>Strait the three Bands prepare in Arms to join,<br>Each Band the number of the Sacred Nine. <br>Soon as she spreads her Hand, th' Aerial Guard<br>Descend, and sit on each important Card,<br>First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore,<br>Then each, according to the Rank they bore;<br>For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient Race,<br>Are, as when Women, wondrous fond of place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold, four Kings in Majesty rever'd,<br>With hoary Whiskers and a forky Beard;<br>And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a Flow'r,<br>Th' expressive Emblem of their softer Pow'r;<br>Four Knaves in Garbs succinct, a trusty Band,<br>Caps on their heads, and Halberds in their hand;<br>And Particolour'd Troops, a shining Train,<br>Draw forth to Combat on the Velvet Plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The skilful Nymph reviews her Force with Care;<br>Let Spades be Trumps, she said, and Trumps they were.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now move to War her Sable Matadores,<br>In Show like Leaders of the swarthy Moors.<br>Spadillio first, unconquerable Lord!<br>Led off two captive Trumps, and swept the Board.<br>As many more Manillio forc'd to yield,<br>And march'd a Victor from the verdant Field.<br>Him Basto follow'd, but his Fate more hard<br>Gain'd but one Trump and one Plebeian Card.<br>With his broad Sabre next, a Chief in Years,<br>The hoary Majesty of Spades appears;<br>Puts forth one manly Leg, to sight reveal'd;<br>The rest his many-colour'd Robe conceal'd.<br>The Rebel-Knave, who dares his Prince engage,<br>Proves the just Victim of his Royal Rage. <br>Ev'n mighty Pam that Kings and Queens o'erthrow,<br>And mow'd down Armies in the Fights of Lu,<br>Sad Chance of War! now, destitute of Aid,<br>Falls undistinguish'd by the Victor Spade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus far both Armies to Belinda yield;<br>Now to the Baron Fate inclines the Field.<br>His warlike Amazon her Host invades,<br>Th' Imperial Consort of the Crown of Spades.<br>The Club's black Tyrant first her Victim dy'd,<br>Spite of his haughty Mien, and barb'rous Pride: <br>What boots the Regal Circle on his Head,<br>His Giant Limbs in State unwieldy spread?<br>That long behind he trails his pompous Robe,<br>And of all Monarchs only grasps the Globe?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace;<br>Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his Face,<br>And his refulgent Queen, with Pow'rs combin'd,<br>Of broken Troops an easie Conquest find.<br>Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild Disorder seen,<br>With Throngs promiscuous strow the level Green. <br>Thus when dispers'd a routed Army runs,<br>Of Asia's Troops, and Africk's Sable Sons,<br>With like Confusion different Nations fly,<br>In various habits and of various Dye,<br>The pierc'd Battalions dis-united fall,<br>In Heaps on Heaps; one Fate o'erwhelms them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Knave of Diamonds now tries his wily Arts,<br>And wins (oh shameful Chance!) the Queen of Hearts.<br>At this, the Blood the Virgin's Cheek forsook,<br>A livid Paleness spreads o'er all her Look; <br>She sees, and trembles at th' approaching Ill,<br>Just in the Jaws of Ruin, and Codille.<br>And now, (as oft in some distemper'd State)<br>On one nice Trick depends the gen'ral Fate.<br>An Ace of Hearts steps forth: The King unseen<br>Lurk'd in her Hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen.<br>He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace,<br>And falls like Thunder on the prostrate Ace.<br>The Nymph exulting fills with Shouts the Sky,<br>The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh thoughtless Mortals! ever blind to Fate,<br>Too soon dejected, and too soon elate!<br>Sudden these Honours shall be snatch'd away,<br>And curs'd for ever this Victorious Day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For lo! the Board with Cups and Spoons is crown'd,<br>The Berries crackle, and the Mill turns round.<br>On shining Altars of Japan they raise<br>The silver Lamp; the fiery Spirits blaze.<br>From silver Spouts the grateful Liquors glide,<br>And China's Earth receives the smoking Tyde. <br>At once they gratify their Scent and Taste,<br>While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repast.<br>Strait hover round the Fair her Airy Band;<br>Some, as she sip'd, the fuming Liquor fann'd,<br>Some o'er her Lap their careful Plumes display'd,<br>Trembling, and conscious of the rich Brocade.<br>Coffee, (which makes the Politician wise,<br>And see thro' all things with his half shut Eyes)<br>Sent up in Vapours to the Baron's Brain<br>New Stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. <br>Ah cease rash Youth! desist e'er 'tis too late,<br>Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's Fate!<br>Chang'd to a Bird, and sent to flit in Air,<br>She dearly pays for Nisus' injur'd Hair!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Will,<br>How soon they find fit Instruments of Ill!<br>Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting Grace<br>A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case;<br>So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,<br>Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight. <br>He takes the Gift with rev'rence, and extends<br>The little Engine on his Finger's Ends:<br>This just behind Belinda's Neck he spread,<br>As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head:<br>Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights repair,<br>A thousand Wings, by turns, blow back the Hair,<br>And thrice they twitch'd the Diamond in her Ear,<br>Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the Foe drew near.<br>Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought<br>The close Recesses of the Virgin's Thought; <br>As on the Nosegay in her Breast reclin'd,<br>He watch'd th' Ideas rising in her Mind,<br>Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her Art,<br>An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart.<br>Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his Pow'r expir'd,<br>Resign'd to Fate, and with a Sigh retir'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring Forfex wide,<br>T'inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide.<br>Ev'n then, before the fatal Engine clos'd,<br>A wretched Sylph too fondly interpos'd; <br>Fate urg'd the Sheers, and cut the Sylph in twain,<br>(But Airy Substance soon unites again)<br>The meeting Points that sacred Hair dissever<br>From the fair Head, for ever and for ever!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then flash'd the living Lightnings from her Eyes,<br>And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies.<br>Not louder Shrieks to pitying Heav'n are cast,<br>When Husbands or when Lap-dogs breath their last,<br>Or when rich China Vessels, fal'n from high,<br>In glittring Dust and painted Fragments lie! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let Wreaths of Triumph now my Temples twine,<br>(The Victor cry'd) the glorious Prize is mine!<br>While Fish in Streams, or Birds delight in Air,<br>Or in a Coach and Six the British Fair,<br>As long as Atalantis shall be read,<br>Or the small Pillow grace a Lady's Bed,<br>While Visits shall be paid on solemn Days,<br>When numerous Wax-lights in bright Order blaze,<br>While Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations give,<br>So long my Honour, Name, and Praise shall live!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What Time wou'd spare, from Steel receives its date,<br>And Monuments, like Men, submit to Fate!<br>Steel cou'd the Labour of the Gods destroy,<br>And strike to Dust th' Imperial Tow'rs of Troy.<br>Steel cou'd the Works of mortal Pride confound,<br>And hew Triumphal Arches to the Ground.<br>What Wonder then, fair Nymph! thy Hairs shou'd feel<br>The conqu'ring Force of unresisted Steel?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Part 4</div><div style="margin:10px 0">BUT anxious Cares the pensive Nymph opprest,<br>And secret Passions labour'd in her Breast.<br>Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz'd alive,<br>Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive,<br>Not ardent Lovers robb'd of all their Bliss,<br>Not ancient Ladies when refus'd a Kiss,<br>Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,<br>Not Cynthia when her Manteau's pinn'd awry,<br>E'er felt such Rage, Resentment and Despair,<br>As Thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,<br>And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew,<br>Umbriel, a dusky melancholy Spright,<br>As ever sully'd the fair face of Light,<br>Down to the Central Earth, his proper Scene,<br>Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swift on his sooty Pinions flitts the Gnome,<br>And in a Vapour reach'd the dismal Dome.<br>No cheerful Breeze this sullen Region knows,<br>The dreaded East is all the Wind that blows.<br>Here, in a Grotto, sheltred close from Air,<br>And screen'd in Shades from Day's detested Glare,<br>She sighs for ever on her pensive Bed,<br>Pain at her side, and Megrim at her Head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two Handmaids wait the Throne: Alike in Place,<br>But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face.<br>Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient Maid,<br>Her wrinkled Form in Black and White array'd;<br>With store of Pray'rs, for Mornings, Nights, and Noons,<br>Her Hand is fill'd; her Bosom with Lampoons. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There Affectation with a sickly Mien<br>Shows in her Cheek the Roses of Eighteen,<br>Practis'd to Lisp, and hang the Head aside,<br>Faints into Airs, and languishes with Pride;<br>On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming Woe,<br>Wrapt in a Gown, for Sickness, and for Show.<br>The Fair ones feel such Maladies as these,<br>When each new Night-Dress gives a new Disease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A constant Vapour o'er the Palace flies;<br>Strange Phantoms rising as the Mists arise; <br>Dreadful, as Hermit's Dreams in haunted Shades,<br>Or bright as Visions of expiring Maids.<br>Now glaring Fiends, and Snakes on rolling Spires,<br>Pale Spectres, gaping Tombs, and Purple Fires:<br>Now Lakes of liquid Gold, Elysian Scenes,<br>And Crystal Domes, and Angels in Machines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry side are seen<br>Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by Spleen.<br>Here living Teapots stand, one Arm held out,<br>One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout: <br>A Pipkin there like Homer's Tripod walks;<br>Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose Pie talks;<br>Men prove with Child, as pow'rful Fancy works,<br>And Maids turn'd Bottels, call aloud for Corks.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastick Band,<br>A Branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand.<br>Then thus addrest the Pow'r--Hail wayward Queen!<br>Who rule the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen,<br>Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit,<br>Who give th' Hysteric or Poetic Fit,<br>On various Tempers act by various ways,<br>Make some take Physick, others scribble Plays;<br>Who cause the Proud their Visits to delay,<br>And send the Godly in a Pett, to pray.<br>A Nymph there is, that all thy Pow'r disdains,<br>And thousands more in equal Mirth maintains.<br>But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a Grace,<br>Or raise a Pimple on a beauteous Face,<br>Like Citron-Waters Matron's Cheeks inflame,<br>Or change Complexions at a losing Game; <br>If e'er with airy Horns I planted Heads,<br>Or rumpled Petticoats, or tumbled Beds,<br>Or caus'd Suspicion when no Soul was rude,<br>Or discompos'd the Head-dress of a Prude,<br>Or e'er to costive Lap-Dog gave Disease,<br>Which not the Tears of brightest Eyes could ease:<br>Hear me, and touch Belinda with Chagrin;<br>That single Act gives half the World the Spleen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Goddess with a discontented Air<br>Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his Pray'r. <br>A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds,<br>Like that where once Ulysses held the Winds;<br>There she collects the Force of Female Lungs,<br>Sighs, Sobs, and Passions, and the War of Tongues.<br>A Vial next she fills with fainting Fears,<br>Soft Sorrows, melting Griefs, and flowing Tears.<br>The Gnome rejoicing bears her Gift away,<br>Spreads his black Wings, and slowly mounts to Day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sunk in Thalestris' Arms the Nymph he found,<br>Her Eyes dejected and her Hair unbound. <br>Full o'er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent,<br>And all the Furies issued at the Vent.<br>Belinda burns with more than mortal Ire,<br>And fierce Thalestris fans the rising Fire.<br>O wretched Maid! she spread her hands, and cry'd,<br>(While Hampton's Ecchos, wretched Maid reply'd)<br>Was it for this you took such constant Care<br>The Bodkin, Comb, and Essence to prepare;<br>For this your Locks in Paper-Durance bound,<br>For this with tort'ring Irons wreath'd around? <br>For this with Fillets strain'd your tender Head,<br>And bravely bore the double Loads of Lead?<br>Gods! shall the Ravisher display your Hair,<br>While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare!<br>Honour forbid! at whose unrival'd Shrine<br>Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign.<br>Methinks already I your Tears survey,<br>Already hear the horrid things they say,<br>Already see you a degraded Toast,<br>And all your Honour in a Whisper lost! <br>How shall I, then, your helpless Fame defend?<br>'Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend!<br>And shall this Prize, th' inestimable Prize,<br>Expos'd thro' Crystal to the gazing Eyes,<br>And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays,<br>On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze?<br>Sooner shall Grass in Hide Park Circus grow,<br>And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of Bow;<br>Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall,<br>Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,<br>And bids her Beau demand the precious Hairs:<br>(Sir Plume, of Amber Snuff-box justly vain,<br>And the nice Conduct of a clouded Cane)<br>With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face,<br>He first the Snuff-box open'd, then the Case,<br>And thus broke out--- &quot;My Lord, why, what the Devil?<br>&quot;Z---ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!<br>&quot;Plague on't! 'tis past a Jest---nay prithee, Pox!<br>&quot;Give her the Hair---he spoke, and rapp'd his Box.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again)<br>Who speaks so well shou'd ever speak in vain.<br>But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear,<br>(Which never more shall join its parted Hair,<br>Which never more its Honours shall renew,<br>Clipt from the lovely Head where late it grew)<br>That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air,<br>This Hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.<br>He spoke, and speaking, in proud Triumph spread<br>The long-contended Honours of her Head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not so;<br>He breaks the Vial whence the Sorrows flow.<br>Then see! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears,<br>Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears;<br>On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head,<br>Which, with a Sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ever curs'd be this detested Day,<br>Which snatch'd my best, my fav'rite Curl away!<br>Happy! ah ten times happy, had I been,<br>If Hampton-Court these Eyes had never seen!<br>Yet am not I the first mistaken Maid,<br>By Love of Courts to num'rous Ills betray'd.<br>Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'd<br>In some lone Isle, or distant Northern Land;<br>Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way,<br>Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea!<br>There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye,<br>Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die.<br>What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome?<br>O had I stay'd, and said my Pray'rs at home! <br>'Twas this, the Morning Omens seem'd to tell;<br>Thrice from my trembling hand the Patch-box fell;<br>The tott'ring China shook without a Wind,<br>Nay, Poll sate mute, and Shock was most Unkind!<br>A Sylph too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate,<br>In mystic Visions, now believ'd too late!<br>See the poor Remnants of these slighted Hairs!<br>My hands shall rend what ev'n thy Rapine spares:<br>These, in two sable Ringlets taught to break,<br>Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck. <br>The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth, alone,<br>And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own;<br>Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands;<br>And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands.<br>Oh hadst thou, Cruel! been content to seize<br>Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Part 5</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE said: the pitying Audience melt in Tears,<br>But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's Ears.<br>In vain Thalestris with Reproach assails,<br>For who can move when fair Belinda fails?<br>Not half to fixt the Trojan cou'd remain,<br>While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain.<br>Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her Fan;<br>Silence ensu'd, and thus the Nymph began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Say, why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most,<br>The wise Man's Passion, and the vain Man's Toast?<br>Why deck'd with all that Land and Sea afford,<br>Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?<br>Why round our Coaches crowd the white-glov'd Beaus,<br>Why bows the Side-box from its inmost Rows?<br>How vain are all these Glories, all our Pains,<br>Unless good Sense preserve what Beauty gains:<br>That Men may say, when we the Front-box grace,<br>Behold the first in Virtue, as in Face!<br>Oh! if to dance all Night, and dress all Day,<br>Charm'd the Small-pox, or chas'd old Age away;<br>Who would not scorn what Huswife's Cares produce,<br>Or who would learn one earthly Thing of Use?<br>To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint,<br>Nor could it sure be such a Sin to paint.<br>But since, alas! frail Beauty must decay,<br>Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey,<br>Since paint'd, or not paint'd, all shall fade,<br>And she who scorns a Man, must die a Maid;<br>What then remains, but well our Pow'r to use,<br>And keep good Humour still whate'er we lose? <br>And trust me, Dear! good Humour can prevail,<br>When Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scolding fail.<br>Beauties in vain their pretty Eyes may roll;<br>Charms strike the Sight, but Merit wins the Soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So spake the Dame, but no Applause ensu'd;<br>Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.<br>To Arms, to Arms! the fierce Virago cries,<br>And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies.<br>All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack;<br>Fans clap, Silks russle, and tough Whalebones crack;<br>Heroes and Heroins Shouts confus'dly rise,<br>And base, and treble Voices strike the Skies.<br>No common Weapons in their Hands are found,<br>Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal Wound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,<br>And heav'nly Breasts with human Passions rage;<br>'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;<br>And all Olympus rings with loud Alarms.<br>Jove's Thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all around;<br>Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing Deeps resound; <br>Earth shakes her nodding Tow'rs, the Ground gives way;<br>And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Triumphant Umbriel on a Sconce's Height<br>Clapt his glad Wings, and sate to view the Fight,<br>Propt on their Bodkin Spears, the Sprights survey<br>The growing Combat, or assist the Fray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While thro' the Press enrag'd Thalestris flies,<br>And scatters Deaths around from both her Eyes,<br>A Beau and Witling perish'd in the Throng,<br>One dy'd in Metaphor, and one in Song. <br>O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear,<br>Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his Chair.<br>A mournful Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast,<br>Those Eyes are made so killing---was his last:<br>Thus on Meander's flow'ry Margin lies<br>Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,<br>Chloe stept in, and kill'd him with a Frown;<br>She smil'd to see the doughty Hero slain,<br>But at her Smile, the Beau reviv'd again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Jove suspends his golden Scales in Air,<br>Weighs the Mens Wits against the Lady's Hair;<br>The doubtful Beam long nods from side to side;<br>At length the Wits mount up, the Hairs subside.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,<br>With more than usual Lightning in her Eyes;<br>Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal Fight to try,<br>Who sought no more than on his Foe to die.<br>But this bold Lord, with manly Strength indu'd,<br>She with one Finger and a Thumb subdu'd, <br>Just where the Breath of Life his Nostrils drew,<br>A Charge of Snuff the wily Virgin threw;<br>The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry Atome just,<br>The pungent Grains of titillating Dust.<br>Sudden, with starting Tears each Eye o'erflows,<br>And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now meet thy Fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,<br>And drew a deadly Bodkin from her Side.<br>(The same, his ancient Personage to deck,<br>Her great great Grandsire wore about his Neck <br>In three Seal-Rings which after, melted down,<br>Form'd a vast Buckle for his Widow's Gown:<br>Her infant Grandame's Whistle next it grew,<br>The Bells she gingled, and the Whistle blew;<br>Then in a Bodkin grac'd her Mother's Hairs,<br>Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boast not my Fall (he cry'd) insulting Foe!<br>Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.<br>Nor think, to die dejects my lofty Mind;<br>All that I dread, is leaving you behind! <br>Rather than so, ah let me still survive,<br>And burn in Cupid's Flames,---but burn alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Restore the Lock! she cries; and all around<br>Restore the Lock! the vaulted Roofs rebound.<br>Not fierce Othello in so loud a Strain<br>Roar'd for the Handkerchief that caus'd his Pain.<br>But see how oft Ambitious Aims are cross'd,<br>And Chiefs contend 'till all the Prize is lost!<br>The Lock, obtain'd with Guilt, and kept with Pain,<br>In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain: <br>With such a Prize no Mortal must be blest,<br>So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can contest?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere,<br>Since all things lost on Earth, are treasur'd there.<br>There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vases,<br>And Beau's in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Cases.<br>There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms are found,<br>And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound;<br>The Courtiers Promises, and Sick Man's Pray'rs,<br>The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs, <br>Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea;<br>Dry'd Butterflies, and Tomes of Casuistry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But trust the Muse---she saw it upward rise,<br>Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetic Eyes:<br>(So Rome's great Founder to the Heav'ns withdrew,<br>To Proculus alone confess'd in view.)<br>A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid Air,<br>And drew behind a radiant Trail of Hair.<br>Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,<br>The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light. <br>The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,<br>And pleas'd pursue its Progress thro' the Skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This the Beau-monde shall from the Mall survey,<br>And hail with Musick its propitious Ray.<br>This, the blest Lover shall for Venus take,<br>And send up Vows from Rosamonda's Lake.<br>This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless Skies,<br>When next he looks thro' Galilaeo's Eyes;<br>And hence th' Egregious Wizard shall foredoom<br>The Fate of Louis, and the Fall of Rome. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the ravish'd Hair<br>Which adds new Glory to the shining Sphere!<br>Not all the Tresses that fair Head can boast<br>Shall draw such Envy as the Lock you lost.<br>For, after all the Murders of your Eye,<br>When, after Millions slain, your self shall die;<br>When those fair Suns shall sett, as sett they must,<br>And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust;<br>This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to Fame,<br>And mid'st the Stars inscribe Belinda's Name! <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Pope">Alexander Pope</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341106" data-title="The Rape of the Lock de Alexander Pope" data-description="Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This Verse to C---, Muse! is due; This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view: Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise, If She inspir..."></div> </div> </div>

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