For this with fillets ftrain'd your tender head,
And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
Gods! fhall the ravisher display your hair,
While the fops envy, and the ladies ftare?
Honour forbid! at whofe unrivall'd fhrine
Eafe, pleasure, virtue, all, our fex refign.
• Methinks already I your tears survey,

.

Already hear the horrid things they say;
Already fee you a degraded toast,

And all your honour in a whisper loft!

How fhall I, then, your hapless fame defend? 'Twill then be infamy to feem your friend!

And fhall this prize, th' ineftimable prize!

Expos'd thro' chryftal to the gazing eyes,

• And heighten'd by the di'mond's circling rays,
• On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?

Sooner fhall grafs in Hyde Park circus grow,
And wits take lodgings in the found of Bow;
Sooner let earth, air, fea, to chaos fall,
• Men, monkies, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!'
She faid; then, raging, to Sir Plume repairs,
And bids her beau demand the precious hairs.
(Sir Plume, of amber fnuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane)
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,
He firft the fnuff-box open'd, then the cafe,

And thus broke out. My lord; why, what the devil!

⚫ Zounds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad you must be civil!

.

Plague on't! 'tis past a jeft-nay, pr'ythee, pox!

Give her the hair.' He spoke, and rapp'd his box.
It grieves me much,' reply'd the Peer again,

Who fpeaks fo well fhould ever speak in vain :

But by this Lock, this facred Lock! I fwear,

(Which never more shall join it's parted hair;

• Which never more it's honours fhall renew,

Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew)

That while my noftrils draw the vital air,

This hand which won it fhall for ever wear.'
He fpoke; and, fpeaking, in proud triumph spread
'T'he long-contended honours of her head.

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo;
He breaks the phial whence the forrows flow.
Then, fee! the nymph in beauteous grief appears,
Her eyes half languishing, half drown'd in tears;
On her heav'd bofom hung her drooping head,
Which with a figh fhe rais'd, and thus fhe faid.
• For ever curs'd be this detesled day,

• Which snatch'd my beft, my fav'rite 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

By love of courts to num'rous ills betray'd.
Oh! had I rather, unadmir'd, remain'd
In fome lone ifle, or diftant northern land,
• Where the gilt chariot never marks the way,
• Where none learn ombre, none e'er taste bohea!
There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
Like rofes, that in defarts bloom and die.

• What mov'd my mind with youthful lords to roam ?
O had I staid, and faid my pray'rs at home!
'Twas this the morning omens feem'd to tell,
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;

The tott'ring china fhook without a wind,

Nay, Pol fat mute, and Shock was most unkind!

A Sylph, too, warn'd me of the threats of Fate
In myftick vifions, now believ'd too late!
• See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what e'en thy rapine fpares:
These in two fable ringlets taught to break,
• Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck;
The fifter Lock now fits uncouth alone,
And in it's fellow's fate forefees it's own;

• Uncurl'd

• Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal fhears demands, And tempts once more thy facrilegious hands. Oh! hadft thou, cruel, been content to feize • Hairs lefs in fight, or any hairs but these !'

CANTO V.

HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears;

SHE

But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears,
In vain Thaleftris with reproach affails,

For who can move when fair Belinda falls?
Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain
While Anna begg'd, and Dido rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clariffa graceful wav'd her fan ;
Silence enfu'd, and thus the nymph began.

Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd moft,

• The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toast ?

Why deck'd with all that land and fea afford,

Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd?

• Why round our coaches croud the white-glov'd beaux ?

Why bows the fide-box from it's inmoft rows?

How vain are all these glories, all our pains,

Unless good fenfe preserve what beauty gains! That men may fay, when we the front-box grace, "Behold the firft in virtue as in race!"

Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,

• Charm'd the small-pox, or chac'd old age away,
• Who would not fcorn what housewifes cares produce,
• Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a faint,
• Nor could it, fure, be fuch a fin to paint:
But fince, alas! frail beauty muft decay,

• Curl'd or uncurl'd, fince Locks will turn to grey;
Since, painted or not painted, all fhall fade,

And the who fcorns a man muft die a maid:

• What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still, whate'er we lose!
And trust me, dear, good-humour can prevail,
• When airs, and flights, and fcreams, and fcolding, fail.
• Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the fight, but merit wins the foul."
So fpoke the dame, but no applaufe enfu'd;
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris call'd her prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
All fide in parties, and begin th' attack;
Fans clap, filks ruftle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes and heroines fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafs and treble voices ftrike 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,
And heav'nly breafts with human paffions rage,
'Gainft Pallas Mars, Latona Hermes arms,
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms;
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound;
Earth fhakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Triumphant Umbriel, on a fconce's height,

Clapp'd his glad wings, and fat to view the fight:
Propp'd on their bodkin spears the sprites survey
The growing combat, or affift the fray.

While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thalestris flies,
And scatters death around from both her eyes,
A beau and witling perifh'd in the throng;
One dy'd in metaphor, and one in fong.

O cruel nymph! a living death I bear!'
Cried Dapperwit, and funk befide his chair.
A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft,
Those eyes are made fo killing-" was his laft.

Thus

Thus on Meander's flow'ry margin lies
Th' expiring fwan, and as he fings he dies.

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariffa down,
Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown;
She fmil'd to fee the doughty hero flain,
But at her smile the beau reviv'd again.

Now Jove fufpends his golden fcales in air,
Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair;
The doubtful beam long nods from fide to fide,
At length the wits mount up, the hairs fubfide.
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies

With more than usual lightning in her eyes;
Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try,
Who fought no more than on his foe to die.
But this bold lord, with manly ftrength endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb fubdu'd.
Juft where the breath of life his noftrils drew
A charge of fnuff the wily virgin threw ;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom juft,
The pungent grains of titillating duft:
Sudden with starting tears each eye o'erflows,
And the high dome re-echoes to his nofe.

Now meet thy fate!' incens'd Belinda cry'd,
And drew a deadly bodkin from her fide.
(The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,
Her great-great grandfire wore about his neck
In three feal rings; which after, melted down,
Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown:
Her infant grandam's whiftle next it grew,
The bells fhe gingled, and the whistle blew ;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)

Boaft not my fall,' he cried, infulting foe!
• Thou by fome other shalt be laid as low :
Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind;
• All that I dread is leaving you behind!

Rather