Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe!
Thou by fome other fhalt be laid as low.
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind:
All that I dread is leaving you behind!
Rather than fo, ah let me ftill furvive,
And burn in Cupid's flames - but burn alive.
Reftore de Lock! fhe cries; and all around
Reftore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound.
Not fierce Othello in fo loud a ftrain

95

100

105

110

Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.
But fee how oft ambitious aims are crofs'd,
And chiefs contend till all the prize is loft!
The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain,"
In ev'ry place is fought, but fought in vain:
With fuch a prize no mortal must be bleft,
So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can contest?
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar fphere,
Since all things loft on earth are treafur'd there.
There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115
And Beau's in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes.
There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found,
And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound,
The courtier's promises, and fick man's play'rs,
The fimiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs,
Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea,
Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry,

But truft the Mufe - fhe faw it upward rife,
Tho' mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes:

NOTES.

VER. 114. Since all things loft) Vid. Ariofto, Canto xxxiv.

120

(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, To Proculus alone confefs'd in view)

A fudden Star, it fhot thro' liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Not Berenice's Locks first role fo bright,

126

The heav'ns befpangling with difhevel'd light. 130 The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,

And pleas'd purfue its progrefs thro' the fkies.

This the Beau monde fhall from the Mall furvey, And hail with mufic its propitious ray.

135'

This the bleft Lover fhall for Venus take,
And fend up vows from Rofamonda's lake.
This Partridge foon fhall view in cloudlefs fkies,
When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes;
And hence th' egregious wizard fhall foredoom
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

140

Then ceafe, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ravishd

hair,

Which adds new glory to the shining sphere!
Not all the treffes that fair head can boast,

VARIATIONS.

VER. 131. The Sylphs behold) These two lines added for the fame reason to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem.

NOTES.

VER. 137. This Partridge foon) John Partridge was a ridicu lous Star-gazer; who in his Almanacks every year never fail'd to perdict the downfall of the Pope, and] the King of France, then at war with the English.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 128.

Stella micat.

Flammiferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem

Ovid.

Shall draw fuch envy as the Lock you loft.
For, after all the murders of your eye,
When, after millions flain, yourself shall die;
When those fair funs fhall fet, as fet they must,
And all those treffes fhall be laid in
in duft,
This Lock, the Mufe fhall confecrate to fame,

And midft the ftars infcribe Belinda's name.

145

150

-Invites my fteps, and points to yonder glade?

'Tis fhe!

but why that bleeding bofom gor'd,

Why dimly gleams the vifionary fword?
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,

Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
To act a Lover's or a Roman's part?
Is there no bright reverfion in the sky,
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?

Why bade ye elfe, ye pow'rs! her foul afpire
Above the vulgar flight of low defire?
Ambition firft fprung from your bleft abodes;
The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods:
Thence to their images on carth it flows,
And in the breafts of Kings and Heroes glows.
Moft fouls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,

10

15

a) See the Duke of Buckingham's verfes to a Lady defigning to retire into a Monaftery compar'd with Mr. Pope's Letters to feveral Ladies, p. 206. quarto Edition. She feems to be the fame perfon whofe unfortunate death is the fubject of this poem.

Dull fullen pris'ners in the body's cage:
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years.
Ufelefs, unfeen, as lamps in sepulchres;
Like Eastern Kings a lazy ftate they keep,
And clafe confin'd to their own palace, fleep.
From thefe perhaps (ere nature bade her die)
Fate fnatch'd her early to the pitying fky.
As into air the purer fpirits flow,

And fep'rate from their kindred dregs below;
So flew the foul to its congenial place,
Nor left one virtue to redeem her Race.

20

25

30

35

But thou, falfe guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deferter of thy brother's blood! See on thefe ruby lips the trembling breath, Thefe cheeks now fading at the blaft of death; Cold is that breaft which warm'd the world before, And thofe love - darting eyes muft roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, Thus fhall your wives, and thus your children fall: On all the line a fudden vengeance waits, And frequent herfes fhall befiege your gates. There paffengers fhall ftand and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) Lo these were they, whose fouls the Furies fteel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. Thus unlamented pals the proud away,

The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!

40

So perifh all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow 45 For others good, or melt at others woe.

What can atone (oh ever-injur'd fhade!) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? No friend's complaint, no kind domeftic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghoft, or grac'd thy mournful bier,