Page images
PDF
EPUB

(Holds out her arm, and draws it back) Coward flesh,

Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,

As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to 't,

And not be sent by him,

But bring, myself, my soul to Antony. (Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody)

Take hence; the work is done.

She has done well. Much better thus to die,

Than live to make a holiday in Rome.

Serap. See how the lovers sit in state together,

As they were giving laws to half mankind!

Th' impression of a smile, left in her face, Shows she died pleas'd with him for whom she liv'd,

And went to charm him in another world.

Serap. (within) Break ope the door, Cæsar's just entering: grief has now no

[blocks in formation]

And lay me on his breast!-Cæsat, thy Fop, coxcomb, fool, are thunder'd through worst;

Now part us, if thou canst. (Dies) (IRAS sinks down at her feet, and dies; CHARMION stands behind her chair, as dressing her head)

(Enter SERAPION, two Priests, ALEXAS bound, Egyptians)

Priest. Behold, Serapion, what havoc death has made!

Serap. 'Twas what I fear'd. Charmion, is this well done?

Char. Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, the last

Of her great race: I follow her. (Sinks down: dies)

Alex. 'Tis true,

the pit;

And this is all their equipage of wit.
We wonder how the devil this diff'rence

grows,

Betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in

prose!

For, 'faith, the quarrel rightly understood, 'Tis civil war with their own flesh and

blood.

The threadbare author hates the gaudy coat;

And swears at the gilt coach, but swears afoot:

For 'tis observ'd of every scribbling man, He grows a fop as fast as e'er he can; Prunes up, and asks his oracle, the glass, If pink or purple best become his face.

For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor prays;

Nor likes your wit just as you like his plays;

He has not yet so much of Mr. Bayes. He does his best; and if he cannot please,

Would quietly sue out his writ of ease. Yet, if he might his own grand jury call, By the fair sex he begs to stand or fall. Let Cæsar's pow'r the men's ambition move,

But grace you him who lost the world for love!

Yet if some antiquated lady say,
The last age is not copied in his play;
Heav'n help the man who for that face
must drudge,

Which only has the wrinkles of a judge.

Let not the young and beauteous join with those;

For should you raise such numerous hosts of foes,

Young wits and sparks he to his aid must call;

'Tis more than one man's work to please you all.

FORMS IN THE HEROIC COUPLET: POPE

MOCK EPIC: VERSE ESSAY: RIMED EPISTLE

THE characteristic verse form of the eighteenth century is the heroic couplet. This is a rather rigid metre in which each line contains just ten syllables, broken by a pause in the middle (generally after the fourth syllable). The lines are united in pairs by end rime, and each couplet, so far as possible, expresses a complete idea. The form lends itself admirably to the use of antithesis and requires epigrammatic terseness. All sorts of things were written in this verse, including many that we should put in prose. The three types here represented are the mock epic, the verse essay, and the rimed epistle.

The mock epic makes use of exaggerated epic devices, with humorous intent, in the treatment of a trivial subject. The incident which furnished the suggestion for the Rape of the Lock (1712; enlarged 1714), was the affront which one Lord Petre gave a famous beauty, Miss Arabella Fermor, by snipping from her head a lock of hair. The theft resulted in an estrangement between the two young people, and a friend of both suggested that Pope should write a playful skit on the subject as a means of reconciling them. The lady at first was more annoyed than conciliated by this attempt, but Pope later revised his poem, adding largely to the fairy elements, and produced a truly delightful bit of verse.

The Essay on Criticism (1711) is valuable as a summary of the classical ideal in literature that prevailed in Pope's day. The professed aim of the age was to "follow the ancients," although their critical standards were chiefly known at second hand. Vida and Boileau had written treatises similar to Pope's and had found their inspiration chiefly in Horace's Art of Poetry. Pope was indebted to them all. From them he adopted what he found to his taste, adding certain observations of his own in keeping with what he borrowed. Pope lacked the broad acquaintance with literature on which any universal literary creed must be formulated. Essay on Criticism with all its arbitrary and conventional views is so completely in keeping with the spirit of the time, and so fully and so skilfully expresses the critical ideals of the day, that it is a document of genuine importance.

The Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot (1735), later called the Prologue to the Satires. is the most autobiographical of Pope's several rimed epistles. Pope had been subjected to numerous attacks, public and private, and he took occasion in this poem to defend himself, assert his independence of court and patron, and justify his general position. The self-righteousness of his attitude is characteristic.

Alexander Pope was the dominating figure in English poetry during most of his life. He suffered from ill health and deformity, and his disposition was not pleasant.

But in an age when perfection of form was admired more than originality of matter or poetic inspiration he won a wide reputation. Among his other poems are Windsor Forest, the Essay on Man (a philosophical poem), and The Dunciad, an attack on various persons for literary and personal grudges. He also translated Homer and edited Shakespeare.

ALEXANDER POPE (1688-1744)

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK

AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM.

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos; Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.1

MARTIAL.

TO MRS. ARABELLA FERMOR.

MADAM,

It will be in vain to deny that I have some regard for this piece, since I dedicate it to You. Yet you may bear me witness, it was intended only to divert a few young Ladies, who have good sense and good humor enough to laugh not only at their sex's little unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it was communicated with the air of a Secret, it soon found its way into the world. An imperfect copy having been offer'd to a Bookseller, you had the good-nature, for my sake, to consent to the publication of one more correct: This I was forced to, before I had executed half my design, for the Machinery was entirely wanting to complete it.

The Machinery, Madam, is a term invented by the Critics to signify that part which the Deities, Angels, or Demons are made to act in a Poem: for the ancient Poets are in one respect like many modern Ladies: let an action be never so trivial in itself, they always make it appear of the utmost importance. These

I did not wish, Belinda, to harm thy locks, but I am glad to have granted this to thy prayers. (Quoted with change of name from Martial, Epigrams, XII, 84)

Machines I determined to raise, on a very new and odd foundation, the Rosicrucian doctrine of Spirits.

I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard words before a Lady; but 'tis so much the concern of a Poet to have his works understood, and particularly by your Sex, that you must give me leave to explain two or three difficult terms.

The Rosicrucians are a people I must bring you acquainted with. The best account I know of them is in a French

book, called Le Comte de Gabalis, which both in its title and size is so like a Novel that many of the fair sex have read it for one by mistake. According to these Gentlemen, the four Elements are inhabited by Spirits, which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes or Demons of Earth delight in mischief; but the Sylphs, whose habitation is in the Air, are the best conditioned Creatures imaginable. For they say, any mortals may enjoy the most intimate familiarities with these gentle Spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true Adepts, an Adepts, an inviolate preservation of Chastity.

As to the following Cantos, all the passages of them are as fabulous as the Vision at the beginning, or the Transformation at the end; (except the loss of your Hair, which I always mention with reverence). The Human persons are as fictitious as the airy ones; and the character of Belinda, as it is now manag'd, resembles you in nothing but in Beauty.

If this Poem had as many Graces as there are in your Person or in your Mind, yet I could never hope it should pass

[blocks in formation]

II

[blocks in formation]

below.

O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd, Nor bound thy narrow views to things
Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord?
In tasks so bold, can little men engage,
And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty
rage?

Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray,

And oped those eyes that must eclipse the day;

Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal'd,

To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd.

What tho' no credit doubting Wits may

[blocks in formation]

Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing Know, then, unnumber'd Spirits round

shake,

And sleepless lovers, just at twelve,

awake;

thee fly,

The light Militia of the lower sky:
These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing,

Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the

[blocks in formation]

Her guardian SYLPH prolong'd the balmy As now your own, our beings were of

[blocks in formation]
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »