THE RAPE of the LOCK. CANTO I.

THE RAPE of the LOCK . CANTO I. WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs , What mighty Quarrels rise from trivial Things , I sing — This Verse to C—l , Muse ! is due ; This , ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view : Slight is the Subject , but not so the Praise , If She inspire , and He approve my Lays . Say what strange Motive , Goddess ! cou'd compel A well-bred Lord t'assault a gentle Belle ? Oh say what stranger Cause , yet unexplor'd , Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord ? And dwells such Rage in softest Bosoms then ? And lodge such daring Souls in Little Men ? Sol thro' white Curtains did his Beams display , And op'd those Eyes which brighter shine than they ; Now Shock had giv'n himself the rowzing Shake , And Nymphs prepar'd their Chocolate to take ; Thrice the wrought Slipper knock'd against the Ground , And striking Watches the tenth Hour resound . Belinda still her downy Pillow prest , Her Guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy Rest . 'Twas he had summon'd to her silent Bed The Morning Dream that hover'd o'er her Head . A Youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau , ( That ev'n in Slumber caus'd her Cheek to glow ) Seem'd to her Ear his winning Lips to lay , And thus in Whispers said , or seem'd to say . Fairest of Mortals , thou distinguish'd Care Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air ! If e'er one Vision touch'd thy infant Thought , Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught , Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen , The silver Token , and the circled Green , Or Virgins visited by Angel-Pow'rs , With Golden Crowns and Wreaths of heav'nly Flow'rs , Hear and believe ! thy own Importance know , Nor bound thy narrow Views to Things below . Some secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal'd , To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd : What tho' no Credit doubting Wits may give ? The Fair and Innocent shall still believe . Know then , unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly , The light Militia of the lower Sky ; These , tho' unseen , are ever on the Wing , Hang o'er the Box , and hover round the Ring . Think what an Equipage thou hast in Air , And view with scorn Two Pages and a Chair . As now your own , our Beings were of old , And once inclos'd in Woman's beauteous Mold ; Thence , by a soft Transition , we repair From earthly Vehicles to these of Air . Think not , when Woman's transient Breath is fled , That all her Vanities at once are dead : Succeeding Vanities she still regards , And tho' she plays no more , o'erlooks the Cards . Her Joy in gilded Chariots , when alive , And Love of Ombre , after Death survive . For when the Fair in all their Pride expire , To their first Elements the Souls retire : The Sprights of fiery Termagants in Flame Mount up , and take a Salamander's Name . Soft yielding Minds to Water glide away , And sip with Nymphs , their Elemental Tea . The graver Prude sinks downward to a Gnome , In search of Mischief still on Earth to roam . The light Coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair , And sport and flutter in the Fields of Air . Know farther yet ; Whoever fair and chaste Rejects Mankind , is by some Sylph embrac'd : For Spirits , freed from mortal Laws , with ease Assume what Sexes and what Shapes they please . What guards the Purity of melting Maids , In Courtly Balls , and Midnight Masquerades , Safe from the treach'rous Friend , and daring Spark , The Glance by Day , the Whisper in the Dark ; When kind Occasion prompts their warm Desires , When Musick softens , and when Dancing fires ? 'Tis but their Sylph , the wise Celestials know , Tho' Honour is the Word with Men below . Some Nymphs there are , too conscious of their Face , For Life predestin'd to the Gnomes Embrace . Who swell their Prospects and exalt their Pride , When Offers are disdain'd , and Love deny'd . Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant Brain ; While Peers and Dukes , and all their sweeping Train , And Garters , Stars , and Coronets appear , And in soft Sounds , Your Grace salutes their Ear . 'Tis these that early taint the Female Soul , Instruct the Eyes of young Coquettes to roll , Teach Infants Cheeks a bidden Blush to know , And little Hearts to flutter at a Beau . Oft when the World imagine Women stray , The Sylphs thro' mystick Mazes guide their Way , Thro' all the giddy Circle they pursue , And old Impertinence expel by new . What tender Maid but must a Victim fall To one Man's Treat , but for another's Ball ? When Florio speaks , what Virgin could withstand , If gentle Damon did not squeeze her Hand ? With varying Vanities , from ev'ry Part , They shift the moving Toyshop of their Heart ; Where Wigs with Wigs , with Sword-knots Sword-knots strive , Beaus banish Beaus , and Coaches Coaches drive . This erring Mortals Levity may call , Oh blind to Truth ! the Sylphs contrive it all . Of these am I , who thy Protection claim , A watchful Sprite , and Ariel is my Name . Late , as I rang'd the Crystal Wilds of Air , In the clear Mirror of thy ruling Star I saw , alas ! some dread Event impend , E're to the Main this Morning's Sun descend . But Heav'n reveals not what , or how , or where : Warn'd by thy Sylph , oh Pious Maid beware ! This to disclose is all thy Guardian can . Beware of all , but most beware of Man ! He said ; when Shock , who thought she slept too long , Leapt up , and wak'd his Mistress with his Tongue . 'Twas then Belinda ! if Report say true , Thy Eyes first open'd on a Billet-doux ; Wounds , Charms , and Ardors , were no sooner read , But all the Vision vanish'd from thy Head . And now , unveil'd , the Toilet stands display'd , Each Silver Vase in mystic Order laid . First , rob'd in White , the Nymph intent adores With Head uncover'd , the Cosmetic Pow'rs . A heav'nly Image in the Glass appears , To that she bends , to that her Eyes she rears ; Th' inferior Priestess , at her Altar's side , Trembling , begins the sacred Rites of Pride . Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once , and here The various Off'rings of the World appear ; From each she nicely culls with curious Toil , And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring Spoil . This Casket India's glowing Gems unlocks , And all Arabia breaths from yonder Box . The Tortoise here and Elephant unite , Transform'd to Combs , the speckled and the white . Here Files of Pins extend their shining Rows , Puffs , Powders , Patches , Bibles , Billet-doux . Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms ; The Fair each moment rises in her Charms , Repairs her Smiles , awakens ev'ry Grace , And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face ; Sees by Degrees a purer Blush arise , And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes . The busy Sylphs surround their darling Care ; These set the Head , and those divide the Hair , Some fold the Sleeve , while others plait the Gown ; And Betty's prais'd for Labours not her own .

THE RAPE of the LOCK . CANTO II . NOT with more Glories , in th' Etherial Plain , The Sun first rises o'er the purpled Main , Than issuing forth , the Rival of his Beams Lanch'd on the Bosom of the Silver Thames . Fair Nymphs , and well-drest Youths around her shone , But ev'ry Eye was fix'd on her alone . On her white Breast a sparkling Cross she wore , Which Jews might kiss , and Infidels adore .

Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose , Quick as her Eyes , and as unfix'd as those : Favours to none , to all she Smiles extends , Oft she rejects , but never once offends . Bright as the Sun , her Eyes the Gazers strike , And , like the Sun , they shine on all alike . Yet graceful Ease , and Sweetness void of Pride , Might hide her Faults , if Belles had Faults to hide : If to her share some Female Errors fall , Look on her Face , and you'll forget 'em all . This Nymph , to the Destruction of Mankind , Nourish'd two Locks , which graceful hung behind In equal Curls , and well conspir'd to deck With shining Ringlets her smooth Iv'ry Neck . Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains , And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains . With hairy Sprindges we the Birds betray , Slight Lines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey , Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race insnare , And Beauty draws us with a single Hair . Th' Adventrous Baron the bright Locks admir'd , He saw , he wish'd , and to the Prize aspir'd : Resolv'd to win , he meditates the way , By Force to ravish , or by Fraud betray ; For when Success a Lover's Toil attends , Few ask , if Fraud or Force attain'd his Ends . For this , e're Phaebus rose , he had implor'd Propitious Heav'n , and ev'ry Pow'r ador'd , But chiefly Love — to Love an Altar built , Of twelve vast French Romances , neatly gilt . There lay the Sword-knot Sylvia's Hands had sown , With Flavia's Busk that oft had rapp'd his own : A Fan , a Garter , half a Pair of Gloves ; And all the Trophies of his former Loves . With tender Billet-doux he lights the Pyre , And breaths three am'rous Sighs to raise the Fire . Then prostrate falls , and begs with ardent Eyes Soon to obtain , and long possess the Prize : The Pow'rs gave Ear , and granted half his Pray'r , The rest , the Winds dispers'd in empty Air . But now secure the painted Vessel glides , The Sun-beams trembling on the floating Tydes , While melting Musick steals upon the Sky , And soften'd Sounds along the Waters die . Smooth flow the Waves , the Zephyrs gently play , Belinda smil'd , and all the World was gay . All but the Sylph — With careful Thoughts opprest , Th' impending Woe sate heavy on his Breast . He summons strait his Denizens of Air ; The lucid Squadrons round the Sails repair : Soft o'er the Shrouds Aerial Whispers breath , That seem'd but Zephyrs to the Train beneath . Some to the Sun their Insect-Wings unfold , Waft on the Breeze , or sink in Clouds of Gold . Transparent Forms , too fine for mortal Sight , Their fluid Bodies half dissolv'd in Light . Loose to the Wind their airy Garments flew , Thin glitt'ring Textures of the filmy Dew ; Dipt in the richest Tincture of the Skies , Where Light disports in ever-mingling Dies , While ev'ry Beam new transient Colours flings , Colours that change whene'er they wave their Wings . Amid the Circle , on the gilded Mast , Superior by the Head , was Ariel plac'd ; His Purple Pinions opening to the Sun , He rais'd his Azure Wand , and thus begun . Ye Sylphs and Sylphids , to your Chief give Ear , Fays , Fairies , Genii , Elves , and Daemons hear ! Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign'd , By Laws Eternal , to th' Aerial Kind . Some in the Fields of purest Aether play , And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day . Some guide the Course of wandring Orbs on high , Or roll the Planets thro' the boundless Sky . Some less refin'd , beneath the Moon's pale Light Hover , and catch the shooting Stars by Night ; Or suck the Mists in grosser Air below , Or dip their Pinions in the painted Bow , Or brew fierce Tempests on the wintry Main , Or on the Glebe distill the kindly Rain . Others on Earth o'er human Race preside , Watch all their Ways , and all their Actions guide : Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own , And guard with Arms Divine the British Throne . Our humbler Province is to tend the Fair , Not a less pleasing , tho' less glorious Care . To save the Powder from too rude a Gale , Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale , To draw fresh Colours from the vernal Flow'rs , To steal from Rainbows ere they drop in Show'rs A brighter Wash ; to curl their waving Hairs , Assist their Blushes , and inspire their Airs ; Nay oft , in Dreams , Invention we bestow , To change a Flounce , or add a Furbelo . This Day , black Omens threat the brightest Fair That e'er deserv'd a watchful Spirit's Care ; Some dire Disaster , or by Force , or Slight , But what , or where , the Fates have wrapt in Night . Whether the Nymph shall break Diana's Law , Or some frail China Jar receive a Flaw , Or stain her Honour , or her new Brocade , Forget her Pray'rs , or miss a Masquerade , Or lose her Heart , or Necklace , at a Ball ; Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall . Haste then ye Spirits ! to your Charge repair ; The flutt'ring Fan be Zephyretta's Care ; The Drops to thee , Brillante , we consign ; And Momentilla , let the Watch be thine ; Do thou , Crispissa , tend her fav'rite Lock ; Ariel himself shall be the Guard of Shock . To Fifty chosen Sylphs , of special Note , We trust th' important Charge , the Petticoat : Oft have we known that sev'nfold Fence to fail , Tho' stiff with Hoops , and arm'd with Ribs of Whale . Form a strong Line about the Silver Bound , And guard the wide Circumference around . 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 stopt in Vials , or transfixt with Pins ; Or plung'd in Lakes of bitter Washes lie , Or wedg'd whole Ages in a Bodkin's Eye : Gums and Pomatums shall his Flight restrain , While clog'd he beats his silken Wings in vain ; Or Alom- Stypticks with contracting Power Shrink his thin Essence like a rivell'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 froaths 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 .

THE RAPE of the LOCK . CANTO III . CLOSE by those Meads for ever crown'd with Flow'rs , Where Thames with Pride surveys his rising Tow'rs , There stands a Structure of Majestick Frame , Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its Name . Here Britain's Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom Of Foreign Tyrants , and of Nymphs at home ; Here Thou , great Anna ! whom three Realms obey , Dost sometimes Counsel take — and sometimes Tea . Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort , To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court ; In various Talk th' instructive hours they past , Who gave a Ball , or paid the Visit last : One speaks the Glory of the British Queen , And one describes a charming Indian Screen ; A third interprets Motions , Looks , and Eyes ; At ev'ry Word a Reputation dies . Snuff , or the Fan , supply each Pause of Chat , With singing , laughing , ogling , and all that . Mean while declining from the Noon of Day , The Sun obliquely shoots his burning Ray ; The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign , And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine ; The Merchant from th' Exchange returns in Peace , And the long Labours of the Toilette cease — Belinda now , whom Thirst of Fame invites , Burns to encounter two adventrous Knights , At Ombre singly to decide their Doom ; And swells her Breast with Conquests yet to come . Strait the three Bands prepare in Arms to join , Each Band the number of the Sacred Nine . Soon as she spreads her Hand , th' Aerial Guard Descend , and sit on each important Card : First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore , Then each , according to the Rank they bore ; For Sylphs , yet mindful of their ancient Race , Are , as when Women , wondrous fond of Place . Behold , four Kings in Majesty rever'd , With hoary Whiskers and a forky Beard ; And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a Flow'r , Th' expressive Emblem of their softer Pow'r ; Four Knaves in Garbs succinct , a trusty Band , Caps on their heads , and Halberds in their hand ; And Particolour'd Troops , a shining Train , Draw forth to Combat on the Velvet Plain . The skilful Nymph reviews her Force with Care ; Let Spades be Trumps , she said , and Trumps they were . Now move to War her Sable Matadores , In Show like Leaders of the swarthy Moors . Spadillio first , unconquerable Lord ! Led off two captive Trumps , and swept the Board . As many more Manillio forc'd to yield , And march'd a Victor from the verdant Field . Him Basto follow'd , but his Fate more hard Gain'd but one Trump and one Plebeian Card . With his broad Sabre next , a Chief in Years , The hoary Majesty of Spades appears ; Puts forth one manly Leg , to sight reveal'd ; The rest his many-colour'd Robe conceal'd . The Rebel- Knave , that dares his Prince engage , Proves the just Victim of his Royal Rage . Ev'n mighty Pam that Kings and Queens o'erthrew , And mow'd down Armies in the Fights of Lu , Sad Chance of War ! now , destitute of Aid , Falls undistinguish'd by the Victor Spade ! Thus far both Armies to Belinda yield ; Now to the Baron Fate inclines the Field . His warlike Amazon her Host invades , Th' Imperial Consort of the Crown of Spades . The Club's black Tyrant first her Victim dy'd , Spite of his haughty Mien , and barb'rous Pride : What boots the Regal Circle on his Head , His Giant Limbs in State unwieldy spread ? That long behind he trails his pompous Robe , And of all Monarchs only grasps the Globe ? The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace ; Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his Face , And his refulgent Queen , with Pow'rs combin'd , Of broken Troops an easie Conquest find . Clubs , Diamonds , Hearts , in wild Disorder seen , With Throngs promiscuous strow the level Green Thus when dispers'd a routed Army runs , Of Asia's Troops , and Africk's Sable Sons , With like Confusion different Nations fly , In various Habits and of various Dye , The pierc'd Battalions dis-united fall , In Heaps on Heaps ; one Fate o'erwhelms them all . The Knave of Diamonds now exerts his 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 gen'ral 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 . Oh thoughtless Mortals ! ever blind to Fate , Too soon dejected , and too soon elate ! Sudden these Honours shall be snatch'd away , And curs'd for ever this Victorious Day . For lo ! the Board with Cups and Spoons is crown'd , The Berries crackle , and the Mill turns round . On shining Altars of Japan they raise The silver Lamp , and fiery Spirits blaze . From silver Spouts the grateful Liquors glide , And China's Earth receives the smoking Tyde . At once they gratify their Scent and Taste , While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repast . Strait hover round the Fair her Airy Band ; Some , as she sip'd , the fuming Liquor fann'd , Some o'er her Lap their careful Plumes display'd , Trembling , and conscious of the rich Brocade . Coffee , ( which makes the Politician wise , And see thro' all things with his half shut Eyes ) Sent up in Vapours to the Baron's Brain New Stratagems , the radiant Lock to gain . Ah cease rash Youth ! desist e'er 'tis too late , Fear the just Gods , and think of Vide Ovid . Metam. 8 : Scylla's Fate ! Chang'd to a Bird , and sent to flit in Air , She dearly pays for Nisus' injur'd Hair ! But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Mind , How soon fit Instruments of Ill they find ? Just then , Clarissa drew with tempting Grace A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case ; So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight , Present the Spear , and arm him for the Fight . He takes the Gift with rev'rence , and extends The little Engine on his Finger's Ends , This just behind Belinda's Neck he spread , As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head : Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights repair , A thousand Wings , by turns , blow back the Hair , And thrice they twitch'd the Diamond in her Ear , Thrice she look'd back , and thrice the Foe drew near . Just in that instant , anxious Ariel sought The close Recesses of the Virgin's Thought ; As on the Nosegay in her Breast reclin'd , He watch'd th' Ideas rising in her Mind , Sudden he view'd , in spite of all her Art , An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart . Amaz'd , confus'd , he found his Pow'r expir'd , Resign'd to Fate , and with a Sigh retir'd . The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring Forfex wide , T'inclose the Lock ; now joins it , to divide . Ev'n then , before the fatal Engine clos'd , A wretched Sylph too fondly interpos'd ; Fate urg'd the Sheers , and cut the Sylph in twain , ( See Milton , lib. 6. But Airy Substance soon unites again ) The meeting Points the sacred Hair dissever From the fair Head , for ever and for ever ! Then flash'd the living Lightnings from her Eyes , And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies . Not louder Shrieks by Dames to Heav'n are cast , When Husbands or when Monkeys breath their last , Or when rich China Vessels , fal'n from high , In glittring Dust and painted Fragments lie ! Let Wreaths of Triumph now my Temples twine , ( The Victor cry'd ) the glorious Prize is mine ! While Fish in Streams , or Birds delight in Air , Or in a Coach and Six the British Fair , As long as Atalantis shall be read , Or the small Pillow grace a Lady's Bed , While Visits shall be paid on solemn Days , When numerous Wax-lights in bright Order blaze , While Nymphs take Treats , or Assignations give , So long my Honour , Name , and Praise shall live ! What Time wou'd spare , from Steel receives its date , And Monuments , like Men , submit to Fate ! Steel did the Labour of the Gods destroy , And strike to Dust th' Imperial Tow'rs of Troy ; Steel cou'd the Works of mortal Pride confound , And hew Triumphal Arches to the Ground . What Wonder then , fair Nymph ! thy Hairs shou'd feel The conqu'ring Force of unresisted Steel ? duplicate duplicate

THE RAPE of the LOCK . CANTO IV . BUT anxious Cares the pensive Nymph opprest , And secret Passions labour'd in her Breast . Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz'd alive , Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive , Not ardent Lovers robb'd of all their Bliss , Not ancient Ladies when refus'd a Kiss , Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die , Not Cynthia when her Manteau's pinn'd awry ,

E'er felt such Rage , Resentment and Despair , As Thou , sad Virgin ! for thy ravish'd Hair . For , that sad moment , when the Sylphs withdrew , And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew , Umbriel , a dusky melancholy Spright , As ever sully'd the fair face of Light , Down to the Central Earth , his proper Scene , Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen . Swift on his sooty Pinions flitts the Gnome , And in a Vapour reach'd the dismal Dome . No cheerful Breeze this sullen Region knows , The dreaded East is all the Wind that blows . Here , in a Grotto , sheltred close from Air , And screen'd in Shades from Day's detested Glare , She sighs for ever on her pensive Bed , Pain at her side , and Languor at her Head . Two Handmaids wait the Throne : Alike in Place , But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face . Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient Maid , Her wrinkled Form in Black and White array'd ; With store of Pray'rs , for Mornings , Nights , and Noons . Her Hand is fill'd ; her Bosom with Lampoons . There Affectation with a sickly Mien Shows in her Cheek the Roses of Eighteen , Practis'd to Lisp , and hang the Head aside , Faints into Airs , and languishes with Pride ; On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming Woe , Wrapt in a Gown , for Sickness , and for Show . The Fair ones feel such Maladies as these , When each new Night-Dress gives a new Disease . A constant Vapour o'er the Palace flies ; Strange Phantoms rising as the Mists arise ; Dreadful , as Hermit's Dreams in haunted Shades , Or bright as Visions of expiring Maids . Now glaring Fiends , and Snakes on rolling Spires , Pale Spectres , gaping Tombs , and Purple Fires : Now Lakes of liquid Gold , Elysian Scenes , And Crystal Domes , and Angels in Machines . Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry side are seen Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by Spleen . Here living Teapots stand , one Arm held out , One bent ; the Handle this , and that the Spout : A Pipkin there like Homer's Tripod walks ; Here sighs a Jar , and there a Goose-pye talks ; Men prove with Child , as pow'rful Fancy works , And Maids turn'd Bottels , call aloud for Corks . Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastick Band , A Branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand . Then thus addrest the Pow'r — Hail wayward Queen ; Who rule the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen , Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit , Who give th' Hysteric or Poetic Fit , On various Tempers act by various ways , Make some take Physick , others scribble Plays ; Who cause the Proud their Visits to delay , And send the Godly in a Pett , to pray . A Nymph there is , that all thy Pow'r disdains , And thousands more in equal Mirth maintains . But oh ! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a Grace , Or raise a Pimple on a beauteous Face , Like Citron-Waters Matron's Cheeks inflame , Or change Complexions at a losing Game ; If e'er with airy Horns I planted Heads , Or rumpled Petticoats , or tumbled Beds , Or caus'd Suspicion when no Soul was rude , Or discompos'd the Head-dress of a Prude , Or e'er to costive Lap-Dog gave Disease , Which not the Tears of brightest Eyes could ease : Hear me , and touch Belinda with Chagrin ; That single Act gives half the World the Spleen . The Goddess with a discontented Air Seems to reject him , tho' she grants his Pray'r . A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds , Like that where once Ulysses held the Winds ; There she collects the Force of Female Lungs , Sighs , Sobs , and Passions , and the War of Tongues . A Vial next she fills with fainting Fears , Soft Sorrows , melting Griefs , and flowing Tears . The Gnome rejoicing bears her Gift away , Spreads his black Wings , and slowly mounts to Day . Sunk in Thalestris' Arms the Nymph he found , Her Eyes dejected and her Hair unbound . Full o'er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent , And all the Furies issued at the Vent . Belinda burns with more than mortal Ire , And fierce Thalestris fans the rising Fire . O wretched Maid ! she spread her hands , and cry'd , ( While Hampton's Ecchos , wretched Maid reply'd ) Was it for this you took such constant Care The Bodkin ; Comb , and Essence to prepare ; For this your Locks in Paper-Durance bound , For this with tort'ring Irons wreath'd around ? For this with Fillets strain'd your tender Head , And bravely bore the double Loads of Lead ? Gods ! shall the Ravisher display your Hair , While the Fops envy , and the Ladies stare ! Honour forbid ! at whose unrival'd Shrine Ease , Pleasure , Virtue , All , our Sex resign . 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 , Expos'd thro' Crystal to the gazing Eyes , And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays , On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze ? Sooner shall Grass in Hide-Park Circus grow , And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of Bow ; Sooner let Earth , Air , Sea , to Chaos fall , Men , Monkies , Lap-dogs , Parrots , perish all ! She said ; then raging to Sir Plume repairs , And bids her Beau demand the precious Hairs : ( Sir Plume , of Amber Snuff-box justly vain , And the nice Conduct of a clouded Cane ) With earnest Eyes , and round unthinking Face , He first the Snuff-box open'd , then the Case , And thus broke out — " My Lord , why , what the Devil ? " Z—ds ! damn the Lock ! 'fore Gad , you must be civil ! " Plague on't ! 'tis past a Jest — nay prithee , Pox ! " Give her the Hair — he spoke , and rapp'd his Box . It grieves me much ( reply'd the Peer again ) Who speaks so well shou'd ever speak in vain . But In allusion to Achilles's Oath in Homer . Il. 1. by this Lock , this sacred Lock I swear . ( Which never more shall join its parted Hair , Which never more its Honours shall renew , Clipt from the lovely Head where once it grew ) That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air , This Hand , which won it , shall for ever wear . He spoke , and speaking in proud Triumph spread The long-contended Honours of her Head . But Umbriel , hateful Gnome ! forbears not so ; He breaks the Vial whence the Sorrows flow . Then see ! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears , Her Eyes half languishing , half drown'd in Tears ; On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head , Which , with a Sigh , she rais'd ; and thus she said . For ever curs'd be this detested Day , Which snatch'd my best , 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 un-admir'd remain'd In some lone Isle , or distant Northern Land ; Where the gilt Chariot never mark'd the way , Where none learn Ombre , none e'er taste Bohea ! There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye , Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die . What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome ? O had I stay'd , and said my Pray'rs at home ! 'Twas this , the Morning Omens did foretel ; Thrice from my trembling hand the Patch-box fell ; The tott'ring China shook without a Wind , Nay , Poll sate mute , and Shock was most Unkind ! A Sylph too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate , In mystic Visions , now believ'd too late ! See the poor Remnants of this slighted Hair ! My hands shall rend what ev'n thy own did spare . This , in two sable Ringlets taught to break , Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck . The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth , alone , And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own ; Uncurl'd it hangs , the fatal Sheers demands ; And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands . Oh hadst thou , Cruel ! been content to seize Hairs less in sight , or any Hairs but these !

THE RAPE of the LOCK . CANTO V. SHE said : the pitying Audience melt in Tears , But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's Ears . In vain Thalestris with Reproach assails , For who can move when fair Belinda fails ? Not half so fixt the Trojan cou'd remain , While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain . To Arms , to Arms ! the bold Thalestris cries , And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies . All side in Parties , and begin th' Attack ; Fans clap , Silks russle , and tough Whalebones crack ; Heroes and Heroins Shouts confus'dly rise , And base , and treble Voices strike the Skies . No common Weapons in their Hands are found , Like Gods they fight , nor dread a mortal Wound . Homer . Il. 20. So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage , And heav'nly Breasts with human Passions rage ; 'Gainst Pallas , Mars ; Latona , Hermes , Arms ; And all Olympus rings with loud Alarms . Jove's Thunder roars , Heav'n trembles all around ; Blue Neptune storms , the bellowing Deeps resound ; Earth shakes her nodding Tow'rs , the Ground gives way ; And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day ! Triumphant Umbriel on a Sconce's Height Clapt his glad Wings , and sate to view the Fight , Propt on their Bodkin Spears the Sprights survey The growing Combat , or assist the Fray . While thro' the Press enrag'd Thalestris flies , And scatters Deaths around from both her Eyes , A Beau and Witling perish'd in the Throng , One dy'd in Metaphor , and one in Song . O cruel Nymph ! a living Death I bear , Cry'd Dapperwit , and sunk beside his Chair . A mournful Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast , A Song in the Opera of Camilla . Those Eyes are made so killing — was his last : Thus on Meander's flow'ry Margin lies Th' expiring Swan , and as he sings he dies . As bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down , Chloe stept in , and kill'd him with a Frown ; She smil'd to see the doughty Hero slain , But at her Smile , the Beau reviv'd again . Vid. Homer Il. 22. & Virg. Aen. 12. Now Jove suspends his golden Scales in Air , Weighs the Mens Wits against the Lady's Hair ; The doubtful Beam long nods from side to side ; At length the Wits mount up , the Hairs subside . 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 sought no more than on his Foe to die . But this bold Lord , with manly Strength indu'd , She with one Finger and a Thumb subdu'd : Just where the Breath of Life his Nostrils drew , A Charge of Snuff the wily Virgin threw ; The Gnomes direct , to ev'ry Atome just , The pungent Grains of titillating Dust . Sudden , with starting Tears each Eye o'erflows , And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose . Now meet thy Fate , th' incens'd Virago cry'd , And drew a deadly Bodkin from her Side . ( In Imitation of the Progress of Agamemnon's Scepter in Homer , Il. 2. The same , his ancient Personage to deck , Her great great Grandsire wore about his Neck In three Seal-Rings ; which after melted down , Form'd a vast Buckle for his Widow's Gown : Her infant Grandame's Whistle next it grew , The Bells she gingled , and the Whistle blew ; Then in a Bodkin grac'd her Mother's Hairs , Which long she wore , and now Belinda wears . ) Boast not my Fall ( he cry'd ) insulting Foe ! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low . Nor think , to die dejects my lofty Mind ; All that I dread , is leaving you behind ! Rather than so , ah let me still survive , And burn in Cupid's Flames , — but burn alive . Restore the Lock ! she cries ; and all around Restore the Lock ! the vaulted Roofs rebound . Not fierce Othello in so loud a Strain Roar'd for the Handkerchief that caus'd his Pain . But see how oft Ambitious Aims are cross'd , And Chiefs contend 'till all the Prize is lost ! The Lock , obtain'd with Guilt , and kept with Pain , In ev'ry place is sought , but sought in vain : With such a Prize no Mortal must be blest , So Heav'n decrees ! with Heav'n who can contest ? Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere , Vid. Ariosto . Canto 34. Since all things lost on Earth , are treasur'd there . There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vases , And Beau's in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Cases . There broken Vows , and Death-bed Alms are found , And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound ; The Courtiers Promises , and Sick Man's Pray'rs , The Smiles of Harlots , and the Tears of Heirs , Cages for Gnats , and Chains to Yoak a Flea ; Dry'd Butterflies , and Tomes of Casuistry . But trust the Muse — she saw it upward rise , Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetic Eyes : ( So Rome's great Founder to the Heav'ns withdrew , To Proculus alone confess'd in view . ) A sudden Star , it shot thro' liquid Air , And drew behind a radiant Trail of Hair . Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright , The Skies bespangling with dishevel'd Light . The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies , And pleas'd pursue its Progress thro' the Skies . This the Beau-monde shall from the Mall survey , And hail with Musick its propitious Ray . This , the blest Lover shall for Venus take , And send up Vows from Rosamonda's Lake . This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless Skies , When next he looks thro' Galilaeo's Eyes ; And hence th' Egregious Wizard shall foredoom The Fate of Louis , and the Fall of Rome . Then cease , bright Nymph ! to mourn the ravish'd 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 , your self shall die ; When those fair Suns shall sett , as sett they must , And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust ; This Lock , the Muse shall consecrate to Fame , And mid'st the Stars inscribe Belinda's Name !