II.]

[Page 241.

But oh! if e'er thy gnome could spoil a grace,
Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face,
Like citron waters matrons' 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 caused suspicion when no soul was rude,

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Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude,

Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease,

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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, though she grants his prayer.
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 gifts 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 cried,
(While Hampton's echoes, "Wretched maid!" replied)
"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 torturing irons wreathed 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 unrivall'd shrine
Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign.
Methinks already I your tears survey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,

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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 heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays,
On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?
Sooner shall glass in Hyde-park Circus grow,
And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow;
Sooner let earth, air, sea, to Chaos fall,
Men, monkeys, lapdogs, 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)

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With earnest eyes, and round, unthinking face,
He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case,

And then 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 (replied the peer again)
Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain,
But by this lock, this sacred lock, I swear,6
(Which never more shall join its parted hair;
Which never more its honours shall renew,
Clipp'd from the lovely head where late 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 ;7
He breaks the vial whence the sorrows flow.
Then see the nymph in beauteous grief appears,
Her eyes half-languishing, half-drowned in tears;
On her heaved bosom hung her drooping head,
Which, with a sigh, she raised; and thus she said:
"For ever cursed be this detested day,

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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!

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Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,

By love of courts to numerous ills betray'd.

Oh had I rather unadmired remain'd

In some lone isle, or distant 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 roses that in deserts bloom and die.

What moved my mind with youthful lords to roam?
Oh had I stayed, and said my prayers at home!

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6 In allusion to Achilles' oath in Homer, Il. i.

7 These two lines are additional; and assign the cause of the different operation on the passions of the two ladies. The poem went on before without that distinction, as without any machinery, to the end of the canto.