Or caus'd fufpicion when no foul was rude,
Or difcompos'd the head-drefs of a Prude,
Or e'er to coftive 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 Goddefs with a difcontented air

75

Seems to reject him, tho' fhe grants his pray'r. 80
A wond'rous Bag with both her hands she binds,
Like that where once Ulyffes held the winds;
There fhe collects the force of female lungs,
Sighs, fobs, and paffions, and the war of tongues.
A Vial next she fills with fainting fears,

85

Soft forrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears.
The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away,
Spreads his black wings, and flowly mounts to day.

Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found,

Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound.

90

Full o'er their heads the fwelling bag he rent,

And all the Furies iffu'd at the vent.

Belinda burns with more than mortal ire,

And fierce Thaleftris fans the rising fire.

94

O wretched maid! fhe spread her hands, and cry'd,

(While Hampton's echoes, Wretched maid! reply'd)
Was it for this you took fuch constant care
The bodkin, comb, and effence to prepare?

For this your Locks in paper durance bound?
For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around?

99

For

For this with fillets ftrain'd your tender head?
And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
Gods! fhall the ravifher display your hair,

While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare!
Honour forbid! at whofe unrival'd fhrine
Eafe, pleasure, virtue, all our fex refign.
Methinks already I your tears furvey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already fee you a degraded toast,

And all your honour in a whisper loft!

How shall I, then, your hapless fame defend ?!
'Twill then be infamy to feem your friend!
And fhall this prize, th' ineftimable prize,
Expos'd through cryftal to the gazing eyes,

105

110

And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays, 115
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, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!
She faid; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
And bids her beau demand the precious hairs:

NOTES.

120

(Sir

VER. 121. Sir Plume repairs,] Sir George Brown. He was the only one of the Party who took the thing seriously. He was angry that the Poet fhould make him talk nothing but nonfenfe; and in truth one could not well blame him.

W.

An engraving of Sir Plume, with feven other figures, by Hogarth, was executed on the lid of a gold fnuff box, and prefented to one of the parties concerned; the original impreffion of a print of it was fold, at Mr. Gulfton's fale, for thirty-three pounds.

(Sir Plume, of amber fnuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane)
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, 125
He first the fnuff-box open'd, then the cafe,

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.

135

It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) 131 Who speaks fo well should ever speak in vain. But by this Lock, this facred Lock I swear, (Which never more fhall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours fhall renew, Clip'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 spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread The long-contended honours of her head.

140

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo; He breaks the Vial whence the forrows flow. Then fee! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, Her eyes half-languishing, half-drown'd in tears;

NOTES.

VER. 141. But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo;
He breaks the Vial whence the forrows flow.]

On

These two lines are additional; and affign the cause of the different operation on the Paffions of the two Ladies. The poem went on before without that distinction, as without any Machinery, to the end of the Canto.

IMITATIONS.

P.

VER. 133. But by this Lock,] In allufion to Achilles's oath in Homer, Il. i,

P.

On her heav'd bofom hung her drooping head, 145
Which, with a figh, fhe rais'd; and thus fhe faid.

For ever curs'd be this detefted day,

Which fnatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl away!
Happy! ah ten times happy had I been,

If Hampton-Court these eyes had never seen! 150
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

155

160

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 deferts bloom and die.
What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to roam?
O had I stay'd, and said 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 Poll fat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate, 165
In mystic vifions, now believ'd too late!

See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares :

NOTES.

These

VER.155.Where the gilt Chariot] What aggravating circumstances
of folitude!

VER. 163. The tott'ring China] The fatal prognostics that
preceded the death of Cæfar, in the firft Georgic of Virgil, are
not imagined with more propriety, or could be more alarming!

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 its fellow's fate forefees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal sheers 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!

170

175