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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 faid my pray'rs at home! 160 "Twas this, the morning omens feem'd to tell, Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell; The tott'ring China shook 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 visions, now believ'd too late!

See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what ev'n thy rapine fpares:
These in two fable ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck; 170
The fifter-lock now fits uncouth, alone,

And in its fellow's fate forefees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal fheers demands,
And tempts, once more, thy facrilegious hands.
Oh hadft thou, cruel! been content to feize 175
Hairs lefs in fight, or any hairs but these!

THE

RAPE of the LOCK.

CANTO V.

HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears.

SHE

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

For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
Not half fo 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.

5

Say why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toast?

VARIATIONS.

VER. 7. Then grave Clariffa, etc.] A new Character introduced in the fubfequent Editions, to open more clearly the MORAL of the Poem, in a parody of the fpeech of Sarpedon to Glaucus in Homer. P.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 9. Say why are beauties, etc.]

Why boaft we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus' ftreams enrich the Lycian plain;
Our num'rous herds that range the fruitful field,
And hills where vines their purple harvest yield;

Why deck'd with all that land and sea 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 its inmost rows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, 15 Unless good fenfe preserve what beauty gains: That men may fay, when we the front box grace, Behold the firft in virtue as in face!

IMITATIONS.

Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd,
Our feasts enhanc'd with mufic's sprightly found;
Why on thofe fhores are we with joy furvey'd,
Admir'd as heroes, and as Gods obey'd;
Unless great acts fuperior merit prove,
And vindicate the bounteous pow'rs above?
'Tis ours, the dignity they give, to grace;
The firft in valour, as the firft in place:

That when with wond'ring eyes our martial bands
Behold our deeds tranfcending our commands,
Such, they may cry, deferve the fov'reign ftate,
Whom thofe that envy, dare not imitate.
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no less the fearful than the brave,
For luft of fame I should not vainly dare
In fighting fields, nor urge thy foul to war.
But fince, alafs! ignoble age must come,
Difeafe, and death's inexorable doom;
The life which others pay, let us bestow,
And give to fame what we to nature owe;
Brave tho' we fall, and honour'd if we live,
Or let us glory gain, or glory give.

Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old-age away; Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce,

25

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint,
Nor could it fure be fuch a fin to paint.
But fince, alafs; frail beauty muft decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, fince Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who fcorns a man, must die a maid;
What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still whate'er we lofe? 30
And truft me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding
fail.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms ftrike the fight, but merit wins the foul.
So spoke the Dame, but no applause ensu'd; 35
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris call'd her Prude.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 35. So fpoke the Dame,] It is a verfe frequently repeated in Homer after any speech,

So fpoke-and all the Heroes applauded. P.

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 rufsle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and Heroines' fhouts confus'dly rife,
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.

4I

So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage, And heav'nly breasts with human paffions rage: 'Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; 47 And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:

Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around, Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound: Earth makes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way,

And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

51

Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height Clap'd his glad wings, and fate to view the fight:

VARIATIONS.

VER. 37. To arms, to arms !] From hence the first Edition goes on to the Conclufion, except a very few short insertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem. P.

VER. 45. Triumphant Umbriel] Thefe four lines added, for the reafon before mentioned. P.

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