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Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o’ertake his sins, Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins ; Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie, Or wedged whole ages in a bodkin's eye: Gums and pomatums shall his flight restrain, While clogg'd he beats his silken wings in vain ; Or alum styptics, with contracting power, Shrink his thin essence like a shrivell’d flower : Or, as Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel The giddy motion of the whirling mill, In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow, And tremble at the sea that froths below!
He spoke ; the spirits from the sails descend: Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend ; Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair ; Some hang upon the pendants of her ear ; With beating hearts the dire event they wait, Anxious and trembling for the birth of fate.
DESCRIPTION OF OMBRE.
FROM THE SAME.
BEHOLD, four Kings in majesty revered,
The skilful nymph reviews her force with care : Let Spades be trumps ! she said, and trumps they
Thus far both armies to Belinda yield ;
The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace ; Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his face,
And his refulgent Queen with powers combined,
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, And wins (oh shameful chance !) the Queen of
Hearts. At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook, A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look ; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille. And now (as oft in some distemper'd state) On one nice trick depends the general fate, An Ace of Hearts steps forth : the King unseen Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn’d his captive Queen : He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky ; The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.
FROM THE EPISTLE OF ELOISA TO
ABELARD. In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing Melancholy reigns ; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ?
Dear fatal name ! rest ever unreveal'd,
tains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains : Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn ; Shrines ! where their vigils pale-eyed virgins
keep; And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep ! Though cold like you, unmoved and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part ; Still rebel nature holds out half my heart ; Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh, name for ever sad ! for ever dear! Still breathed in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led through a sad variety of wo:
Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,
Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
EXTRACT FROM THE EPILOGUE TO THE
SATIRES. VIRTUE may choose the high or low degree, 'Tis just alike to virtue and to me ; Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king, She's still the same beloved, contented thing. Vice is undone if she forgets her birth, And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth. But 'tis the Fall degrades her to a whore : Let Greatness own her, and she's mean no more. Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess, Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless ; In golden chains the willing world she draws, And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws ; Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead. Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, Old England's Genius, rough with many a scar, Dragg'd in the dust ! his arms hang idly round, His flag inverted trails along the ground !