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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341107" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rape of the Lock: Canto 1</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;<br>Sedjuvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.<br> (Martial, Epigrams 12.84)<br> What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, <br> What mighty contests rise from trivial things,<br> I sing--This verse to Caryl, Muse! is due:<br> This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe 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! could compel<br> A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle?<br> O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd,<br> Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?<br> In tasks so bold, can little men engage,<br> And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage?</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 lap-dogs give themselves the rousing 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 press'd,<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 birthnight 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"> &quot;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 flow'rs,<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, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly,<br> The light militia of the lower sky;<br> These, though unseen, are ever on theg,<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 mould;<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 their souls retire:<br> The sprites 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 further 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, the daring spark,<br> The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,<br> When kind occasion prompts their warm desires,<br> When music softens, and when dancing fires?<br> 'Tis but their sylph, the wise celestials know,<br> Though 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 denied:<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 infant 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 through mystic 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> Beaux banish beaux, 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"><br> 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> Ere to the main this morning sun descend,<br> But Heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where:<br> Warn'd by the Sylph, oh pious maid, beware!<br> This to disclose is all thy guardian can.<br> Beware of all, but most beware of man!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long,<br> Leap'd 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"><br> 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.<br> 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, whilst others plait the gown;<br> And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own.</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>
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<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=341107" data-title="The Rape of the Lock: Canto 1 de Alexander Pope" data-description="Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sedjuvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.
 (Martial, Epigrams 12.84)
 What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, 
 What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
 I sing--This verse to Caryl, Muse! is ..."></div>
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