Imágenes de páginas
[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]


Now Jove fufpends his golden fcales in air,
Weighs the Men's wits against the Lady's hair
The doubtful beam long nods from fide to fide;
At length the wits mount up, the hairs fubfide.
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
With more than ufual lightning in her eyes:
Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal fight to try,
Who fought no more than on his foe to die.
But this bold Lord with manly ftrength endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb fubdu'd:
Juft where the breath of life his noftrils drew,
A charge of fnuff the wily virgin threw ;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just,
The pungent grains of titillating duft.
Sudden, with starting tears each
eye o'erflows, 85
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 fide.
(The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,
Her great great grandfire wore about his neck,


VER. 71, Now Jove, etc.] Vid, Homer II.
n. xii. P.

IMITATIONS. VER. 83. The Gnomes direct,] Thefe tw the above reafon. P.

VER. 89. The fame, his antient perfonage tion of the progrefs of Agamemnon's fceptre

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

In three feal-rings; which after, melted down,
Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown:
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells the jingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe!
Thou by fome other shalt 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 ftill furvive,
And burn in Cupid's flames,---but burn alive.
Reftore the Lock! fhe cries; and all around
Reftore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound.
Not fierce Othello in fo loud a ftrain



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 loft!
The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain,
In ev'ry place is fought, but fought in vain :
With fuch a prize no mortal must be bleft,
So heav'n decrees! with heav'n who can contest?


Some thought it mounted to the Lunar fphere, Since all things loft on earth are treafur'd there. There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And Beau's in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes. 116 There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promises, and fick man'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 cafuistry.

But truft the Mufe---fhe faw 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 confefs'd in view)


A fudden Star, it fhot thro' liquid air,

And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Not Berenice's Locks firft rofe fo bright,
The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light. 130


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

VER. 128.


Flammiferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem
Stella micat


[ocr errors]

The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies.
This the Beau monde fhall from the Mall furvey,
And hail with mufic its propitious ray.
This the bleft Lover fhall for Venus take,
And send up vows from Rofamonda's lake.
This Partridge foon fhall view in cloudlefs fkies,
When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes;
And hence th' egregious wizard fhall foredoom
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.


Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ra vish'd hair,


Which adds new glory to the fhining 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;



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


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

« AnteriorContinuar »