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Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the Men's 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, 7 5

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 endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd: 80
Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just,
The pungent grains of titillating dust.
Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, 8 5
And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.

Now meet thy fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd, And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. (The same, his ancient personage to deck,

Her great great grandsire wore about his neck, 90 In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, Forrn'd avast buckle for his widow's gown:

Notes. Ver. 71. Natu Jove, etc.] Vid, Homer II. viii. and Virg. Æ»- xii. P.

Imitations. Ver, 83. The Gnomes direct,] These two lines added for the above reason. P.

Ver. 89. Thescme, his antie;:t personage to deck,] In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer, II. ii. P

1

Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells she 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) 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! 100

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 1 o 5

Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.
But fee 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: no
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, Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And Beau's in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. 116 There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promises, and sick man's pray'rs, The smiles 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 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'din view) 126

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 heav'ns bespangling with difhevel'd light. 130

Notes. Ver. 114. Since all things lost] Vid. Ariosto, Canto xxxiv. P.

t Imitations.

Ver. 128.

Flarnmiserumque trahens spatioso limite crinem
Stella micat Ovid.

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