In three feal-rings; which after, melted down,
Form'd a vaft buckle for his widow's gown :
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells fhe jingled, and the whistle blew ;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs, 95
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)

Boast 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 still survive,
And burn in Cupid's flames---but burn alive.

100

105

Reftore the Lock! fhe cries; and all around Restore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in fo loud a strain 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: 110 With fuch a prize no mortal must be blest, So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can contest ?

1

Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treasur'd there. There Heros' wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115 And Beaux 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 men's pray'rs, The fmiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 120

Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea,
Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

But trust the Mufe---fhe faw it upward rife,
Tho' mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes:
(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew,
To Proculus alone confefs'd in view)

126

A fudden Star, it shot thro' liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,
The heav'ns befpangling with dishevel❜d light. 130

NOTES.

VER. 114. Since all things loft] Vid. Ariosto, Canto xxxiv. P.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 128. Flammiferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem

Stella micat.

Ovid. P.

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 fur-

vey,

And hail with mufic its propitious ray;

This the bleft Lover shall for Venus take, 135
And send up vows from Rofamonda's lake;
This Partridge foon fhall view in cloudless skies,
When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes;
And hence th' egregious wizard fhall foredoom
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 140
Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ra-
vish'd hair,

Which adds new glory to the shining sphere!
Not all the treffes that fair head can boaft,
Shall draw fuch envy as the Lock you loft.
For after all the murders of your eye,
When, after millions flain, yourself shall die,

145

VARIATIONS.

VER. 131. The Sylphs behold] Thefe two lines added for the fame reason, to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem. P.

NOTES.

VER. 137. This Partridge foon] John Partridge was a ridiculous Star-gazer, who in his Almanacks every year never fail'd to predict the downfal of the Pope, and the King of France, then at war with the English. P.

When those fair funs fhall fet, as set they must, And all thofe treffes fhall be laid in duft,

This Lock, the Mufe fhall confecrate to fame, And 'midft the ftars infcribe Belinda's name. 150

ELEGY

To the MEMORY of an

UNFORTUNATE LADY*.

AT beck'ning ghost, along the moon

WHAT light shade

5

Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
'Tis she !---but why that bleeding bofom gor'd'
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?
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? 10
Why bade ye elfe, ye Pow'rs! her foul aspire
Above the vulgar flight of low defire?

NOTES.

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