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Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around, Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps refound: 50 Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way, And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height Clapp'd his glad wings, and fate to view the fight: Prop'd on their bodkin fpears, the Sprites survey 55 The growing combat, or affift the fray.

While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thaleftris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A Beau and Witling perifh'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in fong.

60 '* O cruel Nymph! a living death I bear," Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft, “ Those eyes are made so killing”- -was his last. Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies

65 Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies.

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown ; She smil'd to see the doughty hero sain, But, at her smile, the Beau reviv'd again. 70

VARIATION 9.

VER. 53. Triumphant Umbriel] These four lines added, for the reason before-mentioned.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 53. Triumpbant Umbriel] Minerva in like manner, during the battle of Ulysses with the Suitors, in Odyff. perches on a beam of the roof to behold it.

VER. 64. "Those eyes are made fo killing”] The words of a fong in the Opera of Camilla. Ver. 65. Tbus on Meander's flow'ry margin lies] Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,

Ad vada Mæandri concinit albus olor.

Ov. Ep.

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Now Jove fufpends his golden scales in air,
Weighs the Mens wits against the Lady's hair;
The doubtful beam long nods from side to side;
At length the wits mount up, the hairs fubfide.

See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
With more than usual 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 strength endu'd,
She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd :
Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
A charge of Snuff the wily virgin threw;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom juft,
The pungent grains of titillating duft.
Sudden, with itarting tears each eye o'erflows,
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 fame, his ancient personage to deck,
Her great-great-grandfire wore about his neck,
In three seal rings; which after, melted down,
Form'd a vaft buckle for his widow's gown:
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells she gingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
AWhich long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)

Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe!
Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.

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VER. 71. Now Jove, etc.] Vide Homer, Il. viii., and Virge Æn. xii.

IM I TA TI ON S.

VER. 83. The Gnomes diteE7,] These two lines. added for the above reason.

VER. 89. The same, bis ancient personage to deck,] In imitation, of the progress of Agamemnon's fceptre in Homer, 1l. ii..

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Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind :
All that I dread is leaving you behind !

100 Rather than fo, ah let me still survive, And burn in Cupid's flames—but bu.n alive.

Restore the Lock! The cries; and all around Restore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in fo loud a strain

105 Roard for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain. But see 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 sought, but fought in vain : IIO With such a prize no mortal must be bleft, So heav'n decrees ! with heav'n who can conceft ?

Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treasur'd there. There Heroes wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115 And Beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. 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 smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 120 Cages for goats, and chains to yoak a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry,

But trust the Muse-lhe 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'd in view)

126 A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.

VER. 114. Since all things loft.] Vide Ariosto, Canto xxxiv.

IMITATIONS,
VER. 128.

Flammiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem.
Stella micat,

Ovid,

Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,
The heav'ns bespangling with disheveld light. 13
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it fies,
And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies.

This the Beau-monde shall from the Mall survey,
And hail with music its propitious ray.
This the bleft Lover shall for Venus take,

135 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake, This Partridge foon shall view in cloudlefs ikies, When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes; And hence th' egregious wizard Mall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

140 Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd

hair,
Which adds new glory to the shining sphere !
Not all the treffes that fair head can boast,
Shall draw such envy as the Lock you

loft. For, after all the murders of your eye,

145 When, after millions llain, yourself shall die ; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midit the stars inscribe Belinda's name. 150

VER. 137. This Partridge foon] John Partridge was a ridiculous Star-gazer, wbo in his Almanacks every year never failed to predi& the downfal of the Pope, and the King of France, then at war with the English.

VARIATIONS. VER. 131. The Sylpbs bebold] These two lines added for thg Same reason to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem,

E L

E

GY

To the MEMOR Y of an

UNFORTUNATE LADY.

WHAT beck’ning ghof, along the moon-light

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fhade,
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
'Tis The !-bar why that bleeding bosom gor'd,
Why dimly gleams the visionary Sword ?
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell
Is it, in heav'n, a.crime to love too wells
To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
To act a Lover's or a Roman's part 8.
Is there no bright reverfion in the sky,
For those who greatly think, or bravely die

Why bade ye elfe, ye Pow'rs! her soal aspire.
Above the vulgar flight of low desire ?
Ambition firft fprung from your bleft abodes ;
The glorious fault of Angels, and of Gods:
Thence to their images on earth it flows,
And in the breasts of Kings and Heroes glows.
Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,
Dull fullen pris'ners in the body's cage :
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,
Useless, unseen,, as lamps in sepulchres;

13

1

a See the Duke of Buckingham's verses to a Lady designing to retire into a Monastery, compared with Mr. Pope's Letters to several Ladies,, p. 206. quarto edition. She seems to be the fame pera fon.whose unfortunate death is the subject of this poem..

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