But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppressed,

And secret passions laboured in her breast.
Not youthful kings in battle seized alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robbed of all their bliss, 5
Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinned
awry,

E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, As thou, sad virgin, for thy ravished hair. 10 [For, that sad moment, when the sylphs withdrew

Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen. Here living tea-pots stand, one arm held out, One bent; the handle this, and that the spout. A pipkin there, like Homer's tripod,2 walks; 51 Here sighs a jar, and there a goose-pie talks; Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works,

And maids, turned bottles, call aloud for corks. Safe passed the gnome through this fantastic band,

55 A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand. Then thus addressed the power: “Hail, way

ward queen!

For this with fillets strained your tender head,
And bravely bore the double loads of lead? 4
Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair,
While the fops envy, and the ladies stare!
Honour forbid! at whose unrivalled shrine
Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign. 106
Methinks already I your tears survey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded toast,
And all your honour in a whisper lost!
How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend?
'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend!
And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize,
Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes,
And heightened by the diamond's circling

rays,

ΙΙΟ

But by this lock, this sacred lock, I swear. (Which never more shall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours shall renew, 135 Clipped from the lovely head where late it grew)

That while my nostrils draw the vital air, This hand, which won it, shall forever wear.' He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread

The long-contended honours of her head. 140 [But Umbriel, hateful gnome! forbears not so; He breaks the vial whence the sorrows flow.] 3 Then see the nymph in beauteous grief ap

"Forever curs'd be this detested day, Which snatched my best, my favourite curl away!

Happy! ah, ten times happy had I been,
If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen!
Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,
151
By love of courts to numerous ills betrayed.
Oh, had I rather unadmired remained
In some lone isle or distant northern land;
Where the gilt chariot never marks the way,

1 the bells of St. Mary-le-bow, in the older and unfashionable part of London 2 mottled, cf. Tatler, No. 103. 3-3 The seventh addition.

That men may say, when we the front-box

grace,

'Behold the first in virtue as in face!' Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charmed the small-pox, or chased old age away,

Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce,

21

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint,
Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
But since, alas! frail beauty must decay; 25
Curled or uncurled, since locks will turn to
grey;

Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a man must die a maid;
What then remains but well our power to use,
And keep good humour still, whate'er we lose?
And trust me, dear! good humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scold-
ing fail.

32

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul."

So spoke the dame, but no applause ensued; Belinda frowned, Thalestris called her prude.] "To arms, to arms!" the fierce virago1 cries, And swift as lightning to the combat flies. 38 All side in parties, and begin th' attack; Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack;

40

Heroes' and heroines' shouts confus'dly rise, And bass and treble voices strike the skies. No common weapons in their hands are found, Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.

So when bold Homer makes the gods engage,

45

And heavenly breasts with human passions rage;

'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; And all Olympus rings with loud alarms: Jove's thunder roars, Heaven trembles all around,

Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound:

50

Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground

gives way,

And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day! 2[Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clapped his glad wings, and sat to view the fight;

1 Thalestris 2 Bracketed lines were not in the original version. 3 candlestick

75

See, fierce Belinda on the Baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes; Nor feared the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord with manly strength endued,

She with one finger and a thumb subdued: 80 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; [The gnomes direct, to every atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust.] Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows,

85

And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. "Now meet thy fate," incensed Belinda cried,

And drew a deadly bodkin from her side.

[(The same, his ancient personage to deck, 89 Her great great grandsire wore about his neck, In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, Formed a vast buckle for his widow's gown; Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew, The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;

To Proculus alone confessed in view)
A sudden star, it shot through liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Not Berenice's locks 2 first rose so bright,
The heavens bespangling with dishevelled
light.

1 Cf. Livy, I, 6 2 The wife of Ptolemy Euergetes dedicated her hair for the safe return of her husband; upon its disappearance the astronomer Conon reported that it had been changed to the constellation Coma Berenices.

[The sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, 131 And pleased pursue its progress through the skies.]

This the beau monde shall from the Mall 2

survey,

And hail with music its propitious ray.

1 [This the blest lover shall for Venus take, 135 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake.2] This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies,

3

When next he looks through Galileo's eyes; And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom

The fate of Louis and the fall of Rome. 140 Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravished hair,

Which adds new glory to the shining sphere !
Not all the tresses that fair head can boast,
Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost.
For, after all the murders of your eye,
When, after millions slain, yourself shall die;
When those fair suns shall set, as set they
must,

145

And all those tresses shall be laid in dust: 148 This lock, the Muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.

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,25
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse re-
strain,

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 forever sad! forever dear! 31 Still breathed in sighs, still ushered 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 woe:

35

Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,

Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quenched th' unwilling

flame,

39

There died the best of passions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh! write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, 45 Love but demands what else were shed in prayer;

No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share-thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,

51