This is the expanded, five-canto version of the poem. The line numbers and most of the notes are my own, though Pope’s notes are so marked.
Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos, Martial. |
“Belinda, I did not want to violate your locks, but I am glad to have given that much to your prayers.” Martial, 12.84. | |
Canto I |
||
What dire Offence from am’rous° Causes springs, | related to love | |
What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, | ||
I sing — This Verse to C——, Muse! is due; | ||
This, ev’n Belinda may vouchsafe° to view: | agree | |
Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise, | ||
If She inspire, and He approve my Lays.° | poem | |
Say what strange Motive, Goddess! cou’d compel | ||
A well-bred Lord t’ assault a gentle Belle? | ||
Oh say what stranger Cause, yet unexplor’d, | ||
1.10 | Cou’d make a gentle Belle reject a Lord? | |
And dwells such Rage° in softest Bosoms then? | does such rage dwell | |
And lodge such daring Souls in Little Men? | ||
Sol° thro’ white Curtains shot a tim’rous Ray, | the sun | |
And op’d those Eyes that must eclipse the Day; | ||
Now Lapdogs give themselves the rowzing Shake, | ||
And sleepless Lovers, just at Twelve, awake: | ||
Thrice rung the Bell, the Slipper knock’d the Ground, | ||
And the press’d Watch return’d a silver Sound. | ||
Belinda still her downy Pillow prest, | ||
1.20 | Her Guardian Sylph° prolong’d the balmy Rest. | fairy, spirit |
’Twas he had summon’d to her silent Bed | ||
The Morning-Dream that hover’d o’er her Head. | ||
A Youth more glitt’ring than a Birth-night Beau,° | fashionable man dressed for a party | |
(That ev’n in Slumber caus’d her Cheek to glow) | ||
Seem’d to her Ear his winning Lips to lay, | ||
And thus in Whispers said, or seem’d to say. | ||
Fairest of Mortals, thou distinguish’d Care | ||
Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air! | ||
If e’er one Vision touch’d thy infant Thought, | ||
1.30 | Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught, | |
Of airy Elves by Moonlight Shadows seen, | ||
The silver Token, and the circled Green, | ||
Or Virgins visited by Angel-Pow’rs, | ||
With Golden Crowns and Wreaths of heav’nly Flowers, | ||
Hear and believe! thy own Importance know, | ||
Nor bound° thy narrow Views to Things below. | and don’t limit | |
Some secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal’d, | ||
To Maids alone and Children are reveal’d: | ||
What tho’ no Credit° doubting Wits may give? | belief | |
1.40 | The Fair and Innocent shall still believe. | |
Know then, unnumbered Spirits round thee fly, | ||
The light Militia of the lower Sky; | ||
These, tho’ unseen, are ever on the Wing, | ||
Hang o’er the Box,° and hover round the Ring. | expensive theater seats | |
Think what an Equipage° thou hast in Air, | group of attendants | |
And view with scorn Two Pages — and a Chair. | footboys | |
As now your own, our Beings were of old,° | once upon a time | |
And once inclos’d in Woman’s beauteous Mold;° | physical body | |
Thence,° by a soft Transition, we repair° | from there — go | |
1.50 | From earthly Vehicles to these of Air. | |
Think not, when Woman’s transient Breath is fled, | ||
That all her Vanities at once are dead: | ||
Succeeding Vanities she still regards, | ||
And tho’ she plays no more, o’erlooks the Cards. | ||
Her Joy in gilded Chariots,° when alive, | golden carriages | |
And Love of Ombre,° after Death survive. | a card game | |
For when the Fair in all their Pride expire, | ||
To their first Elements the Souls retire:° | return | |
The Sprights° of fiery Termagants° in Flame | spirits — obnoxious women | |
1.60 | Mount up, and take a Salamander’s Name. | |
Soft yielding Minds to Water glide away, | ||
And sip with Nymphs, their Elemental Tea. | ||
The graver° Prude sinks downward to a Gnome, | more serious | |
In search of Mischief still on Earth to roam. | ||
The light Coquettes° in Sylphs aloft repair,° | flirts — go | |
And sport and flutter in the Fields of Air. | ||
Know farther yet; Whoever fair and chaste° | beautiful and virginal | |
Rejects Mankind, is by some Sylph embrac’d: | ||
For Spirits, freed from mortal Laws, with ease | ||
1.70 | Assume what Sexes and what Shapes they please. | |
What guards the Purity of melting° Maids, | overwhelmed | |
In Courtly Balls,° and Midnight Masquerades, | fancy dances | |
Safe from the treach’rous Friend, and daring Spark,° | fashionable man | |
The Glance by Day, the Whisper in the Dark; | ||
When kind Occasion° prompts° their warm Desires, | opportunity — starts up | |
When Musick softens, and when Dancing fires? | ||
’Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials know, | ||
Tho’ Honour is the Word with Men below.° | ||
on earth | ||
Some Nymphs there are, too conscious of their Face, | ||
1.80 | For Life predestin’d to the Gnomes Embrace. | |
These swell° their Prospects° and exalt their Pride, | exaggerate — future | |
When Offers are disdain’d, and Love deny’d. | ||
Then gay° Ideas crowd the vacant Brain; | frivolous | |
While Peers° and Dukes, and all their sweeping Train, | noblemen | |
And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear, | ||
And in soft Sounds, Your Grace salutes° their Ear. | greets | |
’Tis these that early taint the Female Soul, | ||
Instruct the Eyes of young Coquettes° to roll, | flirts | |
Teach Infants Cheeks a bidden° Blush to know, | called for | |
1.90 | And little Hearts to flutter at a Beau.° | |
attractive man | ||
Oft when the World imagine Women stray, | ||
The Sylphs thro’ mystick Mazes guide their Way, | ||
Thro’ all the giddy Circle they pursue, | ||
And old Impertinence° expel by new. | rudeness | |
What tender Maid but must a Victim fall | ||
To one Man’s Treat, but for another’s Ball? | ||
When Florio speaks, what Virgin could withstand, | ||
If gentle Damon did not squeeze her Hand? | ||
With varying Vanities, from ev’ry Part, | ||
1.100 | They shift the moving Toyshop of their Heart; | |
Where Wigs with Wigs, with Sword-knots Sword-knots strive, | ||
Beaus banish Beaus, and Coaches Coaches drive. | ||
This erring° Mortals Levity° may call, | mistaken — frivolousness | |
Oh blind to Truth! the Sylphs contrive° it all. | ||
plan | ||
Of these am I, who thy Protection claim, | ||
A watchful Sprite,° and Ariel is my Name. | spirit | |
Late,° as I rang’d the Crystal Wilds of Air, | recently | |
In the clear Mirror of thy ruling Star | ||
I saw, alas! some dread° Event impend,° | terrible — hang over | |
1.110 | E’re° to the Main° this Morning Sun descend. | before — sea |
But Heav’n reveals not what, or how, or where: | ||
Warn’d by thy Sylph, oh Pious Maid beware! | ||
This to disclose° is all thy Guardian can. | to reveal this | |
Beware of all, but most beware of Man! | ||
He said; when Shock,° who thought she slept too long, | name of a lapdog | |
Leapt up, and wak’d his Mistress with his Tongue. | ||
’Twas then Belinda, if Report say true, | ||
Thy Eyes first open’d on a Billet-doux.° | love letter | |
Wounds, Charms, and Ardors, were no sooner read, | ||
1.120 | But all the Vision vanish’d from thy Head. | |
And now, unveil’d, the Toilet° stands display’d, | dressing table | |
Each Silver Vase in mystic Order laid. | ||
First, rob’d in White, the Nymph intent adores | ||
With Head uncover’d, the cosmetic Pow’rs. | ||
A heav’nly Image in the Glass appears, | ||
To that she bends, to that her Eyes she rears;° | raises | |
Th’ inferior Priestess, at her Altar’s side, | ||
Trembling, begins the sacred Rites of Pride. | ||
Unnumber’d Treasures ope at once, and here | ||
1.130 | The various Off’rings of the World appear; | |
From each she nicely° culls° with curious Toil, | carefully, precisely — removes | |
And decks° the Goddess with the glitt’ring Spoil. | dresses | |
This Casket India’s glowing Gems unlocks, | ||
And all Arabia breathes from yonder Box. | ||
The Tortoise here and Elephant unite, | ||
Transform’d to Combs, the speckled and the white. | ||
Here Files of Pins extend their shining Rows, | ||
Puffs, Powders, Patches,° Bibles, Billet-doux. | artificial beauty spots | |
Now awful° Beauty puts on all its Arms;° | awe-inspiring — armor | |
1.140 | The Fair each moment rises in her Charms, | |
Repairs her Smiles, awakens ev’ry Grace, | ||
And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face; | ||
Sees by Degrees a purer Blush arise, | ||
And keener Lightnings quicken° in her Eyes. | come to life | |
The busy Sylphs surround their darling Care; | ||
These set the Head, and those divide the Hair, | ||
Some fold the Sleeve, while others plait the Gown; | ||
And Betty’s° prais’d for Labours not her own. | ||
the maid | ||
Canto II |
||
Not with more Glories, in th’ Etherial Plain, | ||
The Sun first rises o’er the purpled Main,° | ocean | |
Than issuing forth, the Rival of his Beams | ||
Lanch’d on the Bosom of the Silver Thames.° | London’s major river | |
Fair Nymphs, and well-drest Youths around her shone, | ||
But ev’ry Eye was fix’d on her alone. | ||
On her white Breast a sparkling Cross she wore, | ||
Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels° adore. | atheists | |
Her lively Looks a sprightly Mind disclose, | ||
2.10 | Quick as her Eyes, and as unfix’d as those: | |
Favours to none, to all she Smiles extends, | ||
Oft she rejects, but never once offends. | ||
Bright as the Sun, her Eyes the Gazers strike, | ||
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. | ||
Yet graceful Ease, and Sweetness void of Pride, | ||
Might hide her Faults, if Belles had faults to hide: | ||
If to her share some Female Errors fall, | ||
Look on her Face, and you’ll forget ’em all. | ||
This Nymph, to the Destruction of Mankind, | ||
2.20 | Nourish’d two Locks, which graceful hung behind | |
In equal Curls, and well conspir’d to deck° | decorate | |
With shining Ringlets her smooth Iv’ry Neck. | ||
Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains, | ||
And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains. | ||
With hairy Sprindges° we the Birds betray, | snares | |
Slight Lines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey,° | fish | |
Fair Tresses° Man’s Imperial Race insnare, | locks of hair | |
And Beauty draws us with a single Hair. | ||
Th’ Adventrous Baron the bright Locks admir’d, | ||
2.30 | He saw, he wish’d, and to the Prize aspir’d: | |
Resolv’d° to win, he meditates the way, | determined | |
By Force to ravish,° or by Fraud betray; | carry off | |
For when Success a Lover’s Toil attends,° | accompanies | |
Few ask, if Fraud or Force attain’d his Ends. | ||
For this, e’re° Phœbus° rose, he had implor’d | before — the sun | |
Propitious° Heav’n, and ev’ry Pow’r ador’d, | favorable | |
But chiefly Love — to Love an Altar built, | ||
Of twelve vast French Romances, neatly gilt.32 | ||
There lay three Garters, half a Pair of Gloves; | ||
2.40 | And all the Trophies of his former Loves. | |
With tender Billet-doux° he lights the Pyre, | love letters | |
And breathes three am’rous° Sighs to raise the Fire. | loving | |
Then prostrate° falls, and begs with ardent Eyes | face-down | |
Soon to obtain, and long possess the Prize: | ||
The Pow’rs gave Ear, and granted half his Pray’r, | ||
The rest, the Winds dispers’d in empty Air. | ||
But now secure the painted Vessel glides, | ||
The Sun-beams trembling on the floating Tydes, | ||
While melting Musick steals upon° the Sky, | sneaks up on | |
2.50 | And soften’d Sounds along the Waters die. | |
Smooth flow the Waves, the Zephyrs° gently play, | light breezes | |
Belinda smil’d, and all the World was gay.° | carefree | |
All but the Sylph — With careful Thoughts opprest, | ||
Th’ impending° Woe sate° heavy on his Breast. | threatening — sat | |
He summons strait° his Denizens° of Air; | right away — citizens | |
The lucid° Squadrons round the Sails repair: | bright | |
Soft o’er the Shrouds Aerial Whispers breathe, | ||
That seem’d but Zephyrs to the Train° beneath. | followers | |
Some to the Sun their Insect-Wings unfold, | ||
2.60 | Waft on the Breeze, or sink in Clouds of Gold. | |
Transparent Forms, too fine for mortal Sight, | ||
Their fluid Bodies half dissolv’d in Light. | ||
Loose to the Wind their airy Garments flew, | ||
Thin glitt’ring Textures of the filmy Dew; | ||
Dipt in the richest Tincture° of the Skies, | color, dye | |
Where Light disports° in ever-mingling Dies, | plays | |
While ev’ry Beam new transient° Colours flings, | changing | |
Colours that change whene’er they wave their Wings. | ||
Amid the Circle, on the gilded Mast, | ||
2.70 | Superior° by the Head, was Ariel plac’d; | high up |
His Purple Pinions° opening to the Sun, | wings | |
He rais’d his Azure° Wand, and thus begun. | ||
sky-blue | ||
Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your Chief give Ear, | ||
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Dæmons° hear! | (all supernatural beings) | |
Ye know the Spheres and various Tasks assign’d, | ||
By Laws Eternal, to th’ Aerial Kind. | ||
Some in the Fields of purest æther play, | ||
And bask and whiten in the Blaze of Day. | ||
Some guide the Course of wandring Orbs° on high, | planets | |
2.80 | Or roll the Planets thro’ the boundless Sky. | |
Some less refin’d, beneath the Moon’s pale Light | ||
Hover, and catch the shooting stars by Night; | ||
Or suck the Mists in grosser° Air below, | heavier, denser | |
Or dip their Pinions° in the painted Bow, | wings | |
Or brew fierce Tempests° on the wintry Main,° | storms — sea | |
Or o’er the Glebe° distill the kindly Rain. | soil | |
Others on Earth o’er human Race preside, | ||
Watch all their Ways, and all their Actions guide: | ||
Of these the Chief the Care of Nations own, | ||
2.90 | And guard with Arms Divine the British Throne. | |
Our humbler Province° is to tend the Fair,° | responsibility — beautiful | |
Not a less pleasing, tho’ less glorious Care. | ||
To save the Powder from too rude° a Gale,° | strong — wind | |
Nor let th’ imprison’d Essences° exhale, | perfumes | |
To draw fresh Colours from the vernal° Flow’rs, | green, growing | |
To steal from Rainbows ere° they drop in Show’rs | before | |
A brighter Wash; to curl their waving Hairs, | ||
Assist their Blushes, and inspire their Airs; | ||
Nay oft, in Dreams, Invention° we bestow, | imagination | |
2.100 | To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelo.° | |
decorative parts of a gown | ||
This Day, black Omens threat the brightestFair | ||
That e’er deserv’d a watchful Spirit’s Care; | ||
Some dire Disaster, or° by Force, or Slight, | either | |
But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in Night. | ||
Whether the Nymph shall break Diana’s Law, | ||
Or some frail China Jar receive a Flaw, | ||
Or stain her Honour, or her new Brocade,° | (a kind of fabric) | |
Forget her Pray’rs, or miss a Masquerade, | ||
Or lose her Heart, or Necklace, at a Ball; | ||
2.110 | Or whether Heav’n has doom’d that Shock° must fall. | Belinda’s lapdog |
Haste° then ye Spirits! to your Charge° repair;° | hurry — responsibility — go | |
The flutt’ring Fan be Zephyretta’s Care; | ||
The Drops° to thee, Brillante, we consign;° | diamond earrings — entrust | |
And Momentilla, let the Watch be thine; | ||
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav’rite Lock; | ||
Ariel himself shall be the Guard of Shock. | ||
To Fifty chosen Sylphs, of special Note, | ||
We trust th’ important Charge, the Petticoat.° | underwear | |
Oft have we known that sev’nfold Fence to fail; | ||
2.120 | Tho’ stiff with Hoops, and arm’d with Ribs of Whale. | |
Form a strong Line about the Silver Bound, | ||
And guard the wide Circumference around. | ||
Whatever spirit, careless of his Charge, | ||
His Post neglects, or leaves the Fair at large, | ||
Shall feel sharp Vengeance soon o’ertake his Sins, | ||
Be stopt in Vials, or transfixt with Pins. | ||
Or plung’d in Lakes of bitter Washes lie, | ||
Or wedg’d whole Ages in a Bodkin’s° Eye: | hairpin | |
Gums and Pomatums° shall his Flight restrain, | hair gels | |
2.130 | While clog’d he beats his silken Wings in vain; | |
Or Alom-Stypticks° with contracting Power | astringent substances | |
Shrink his thin Essence like a rivell’d Flower. | ||
Or as Ixion fix’d, the Wretch shall feel | ||
The giddy Motion of the whirling Mill, | ||
In Fumes of burning Chocolate° shall glow, | (always a drink at this time) | |
And tremble at the Sea that froaths below! | ||
He spoke; the Spirits from the Sails descend; | ||
Some, Orb in Orb, around the Nymph extend, | ||
Some thrid the mazy Ringlets of her Hair, | ||
2.140 | Some hang upon the Pendants° of her Ear; | earrings |
With beating Hearts the dire Event° they wait, | terrible outcome | |
Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate. | ||
Canto III |
||
Close by those Meads° for ever crown’d with Flow’rs, | meadows | |
Where Thames with Pride surveys his rising Tow’rs, | ||
There stands a Structure of Majestick Frame, | ||
Which from the neighb’ring Hampton° takes its Name. | Hampton Court, a palace | |
Here Britain’s Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom° | predict | |
Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home; | ||
Here Thou, great Anna!° whom three Realms obey, | Queen Anne | |
Dost sometimes Counsel° take — and sometimes Tea. | advice | |
Hither° the Heroes and the Nymphs resort, | to hear | |
3.10 | To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court; | |
In various Talk th’ instructive hours they past, | ||
Who gave the Ball,° or paid the Visit last: | hosted the dance | |
One speaks the Glory of the British Queen, | ||
And one describes a charming Indian Screen.° | portable room divider | |
A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes; | ||
At ev’ry Word a Reputation dies. | ||
Snuff,° or the Fan, supply each Pause of Chat, | powdered tobacco for snorting | |
With singing, laughing, ogling,° and all that. | ||
staring | ||
Mean while declining from the Noon of Day, | ||
3.20 | The Sun obliquely° shoots his burning Ray; | from an angle |
The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign, | ||
And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine; | ||
The Merchant from th’ exchange° returns in Peace, | stock exchange | |
And the long Labours of the Toilette° cease — | dressing table | |
Belinda now, whom Thirst of Fame invites, | ||
Burns to encounter two adventrous Knights, | ||
At Ombre singly to decide their Doom;° | fate | |
And swells her Breast with Conquests yet to come. | ||
Strait° the three Bands° prepare in Arms to join, | at once — groups | |
3.30 | Each Band the number of the Sacred Nine.° | the Muses |
Soon as she spreads her Hand, th’ Aerial Guard | ||
Descend, and sit on each important Card, | ||
First Ariel perch’d upon a Matadore, | ||
Then each, according to the Rank they bore; | ||
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient Race, | ||
Are, as when Women, wondrous fond of place. | ||
Behold, four Kings in Majesty rever’d, | ||
With hoary° Whiskers and a forky Beard; | snow-white | |
And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a Flow’r, | ||
3.40 | Th’ expressive Emblem of their softer Pow’r; | |
Four Knaves° in Garbs succinct,° a trusty Band, | jacks — wrapped up | |
Caps on their heads, and Halberds° in their hand; | battle axes | |
And Particolour’d° Troops, a shining Train,° | multicolored — followers | |
Draw forth to Combat on the Velvet Plain. | ||
The skilful Nymph reviews her Force with Care; | ||
Let Spades be Trumps, she said, and Trumps they were. | ||
Now move to War her Sable° Matadores, | black | |
In Show like Leaders of the swarthy° Moors.° | dark — North Africans | |
Spadillio° first, unconquerable Lord! | the ace of spades | |
3.50 | Led off two captive Trumps, and swept the Board. | |
As many more Manillio forc’d to yield, | ||
And march’d a Victor from the verdant Field. | ||
Him Basto follow’d, but his Fate more hard | ||
Gain’d but one Trump and one Plebeian° Card. | unimportant | |
With his broad Sabre next, a Chief in Years, | ||
The hoary° Majesty of Spades appears; | old | |
Puts forth one manly Leg, to sight reveal’d; | ||
The rest his many-colour’d Robe conceal’d. | ||
The Rebel-Knave, who dares his Prince engage, | ||
3.60 | Proves° the just Victim of his Royal Rage. | turns out to be |
Ev’n mighty Pam that Kings and Queens o’erthrow, | ||
And mow’d down Armies in the Fights of Lu,° | a card game | |
Sad Chance of War! now, destitute° of Aid, | lacking | |
Falls undistinguish’d by the Victor Spade. | ||
Thus far both Armies to Belinda yield; | ||
Now to the Baron Fate inclines the Field. | ||
His warlike Amazon her Host invades, | ||
Th’ Imperial Consort° of the Crown of Spades. | queen | |
The Club’s black Tyrant first her Victim dy’d, | ||
3.70 | Spite of his haughty Mien,° and barb’rous Pride: | appearance |
What boots° the Regal° Circle on his Head, | benefits — royal | |
His Giant Limbs in State unwieldy spread? | ||
That long behind he trails his pompous Robe, | ||
And of all Monarchs only grasps the Globe? | ||
The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace;° | quickly | |
Th’ embroider’d King who shows but half his Face, | ||
And his refulgent° Queen, with Pow’rs combin’d, | shining | |
Of broken Troops an easie Conquest find. | ||
Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild Disorder seen, | ||
3.80 | With Throngs promiscuous° strow the level Green. | mixed |
Thus when dispers’d a routed° Army runs, | defeated | |
Of Asia’s Troops, and Africk’s Sable° Sons, | black | |
With like Confusion different Nations fly, | ||
In various habits and of various Dye,° | color | |
The pierc’d Battalions dis-united fall, | ||
In Heaps on Heaps; one Fate o’erwhelms them all. | ||
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily Arts,° | clever tricks | |
And wins (oh shameful Chance!) the Queen of Hearts. | ||
At this, the Blood the Virgin’s Cheek forsook,° | abandoned | |
3.90 | A livid° Paleness spreads o’er all her Look; | ghastly white |
She sees, and trembles at th’ approaching Ill, | ||
Just in the Jaws of Ruin, and Codille. | ||
And now, (as oft° in some distemper’d State) | often | |
On one nice Trick depends the gen’ral Fate. | ||
An Ace of Hearts steps forth: The King unseen | ||
Lurk’d in her Hand, and mourn’d his captive Queen. | ||
He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace, | ||
And falls like Thunder on the prostrate° Ace. | lying on its face | |
The Nymph exulting° fills with Shouts the Sky, | victorious | |
3.100 | The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply.° | |
echo | ||
Oh thoughtless Mortals! ever blind to Fate, | ||
Too soon dejected,° and too soon elate!° | depressed — thrilled | |
Sudden these Honours shall be snatch’d away, | ||
And curs’d for ever this Victorious Day. | ||
For lo! the Board° with Cups and Spoons is crown’d, | table | |
The Berries° crackle, and the Mill° turns round. | coffee beans — grinder | |
On shining Altars of Japan° they raise | Asian-style varnish | |
The silver Lamp; the fiery Spirits blaze. | ||
From silver Spouts the grateful Liquors° glide, | pleasing liquids | |
3.110 | And China’s Earth receives the smoking Tyde. | |
At once they gratify° their Scent and Taste, | please | |
While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repast.° | meal | |
Strait° hover round the Fair her Airy Band; | nearby | |
Some, as she sip’d, the fuming Liquor fann’d, | ||
Some o’er her Lap their careful Plumes display’d, | ||
Trembling, and conscious of the rich Brocade.° | fabric | |
Coffee, (which makes the Politician wise, | ||
And see thro’ all things with his half shut Eyes) | ||
Sent up in Vapours to the Baron’s Brain | ||
3.120 | New Stratagems,° the radiant Lock to gain. | schemes |
Ah cease rash Youth! desist e’er° ’tis too late, | before | |
Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla’s Fate! | ||
Chang’d to a Bird, and sent to flit in Air, | ||
She dearly pays for Nisus’ injur’d Hair! | ||
But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Will, | ||
How soon they find fit Instruments of Ill!° | evil | |
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting Grace | ||
A two-edg’d Weapon from her shining Case; | ||
So Ladies in Romance° assist their Knight, | adventure stories | |
3.130 | Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight. | |
He takes the Gift with rev’rence, and extends | ||
The little Engine° on his Finger’s Ends: | device | |
This just behind Belinda’s Neck he spread, | ||
As o’er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head: | ||
Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights° repair,° | spirits — hurry | |
A thousand Wings, by turns, blow back the Hair, | ||
And thrice they twitch’d the Diamond in her Ear, | ||
Thrice she look’d back, and thrice the Foe drew near. | ||
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought | ||
3.140 | The close Recesses of the Virgin’s Thought; | |
As on the Nosegay° in her Breast reclin’d, | bunch of flowers | |
He watch’d th’ Ideas rising in her Mind, | ||
Sudden he view’d, in spite of all her Art,° | effort | |
An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart. | ||
Amaz’d, confus’d, he found his Pow’r expir’d, | ||
Resign’d to Fate, and with a Sigh retir’d. | ||
The Peer° now spreads the glitt’ring Forfex° wide, | baron — scissors (Latin) | |
T’inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide. | ||
Ev’n then, before the fatal Engine clos’d, | ||
3.150 | A wretched Sylph too fondly° interpos’d;° | foolishly — came between |
Fate urg’d° the Sheers, and cut the Sylph in twain, | pushed | |
(But Airy Substance soon unites again) | ||
The meeting Points that sacred Hair dissever | ||
From the fair Head, for ever and for ever! | ||
Then flash’d the living Lightnings from her Eyes, | ||
And Screams of Horror rend° th’ affrighted Skies. | tear apart | |
Not louder Shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast, | ||
When Husbands or when Lap-dogs breath their last, | ||
Or when rich China Vessels, fal’n from high, | ||
3.160 | In glittring Dust and painted Fragments lie! | |
Let Wreaths of Triumph now my Temples twine,° | wrap around | |
(The Victor cry’d) the glorious Prize is mine! | ||
While Fish in Streams, or Birds delight in Air, | ||
Or in a Coach and Six° the British Fair, | fancy carriage drawn by six horses | |
As long as Atalantis shall be read, | ||
Or the small Pillow grace a Lady’s Bed, | ||
While Visits shall be paid on solemn Days, | ||
When numerous Wax-lights in bright Order blaze, | ||
While Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations° give, | meeting times | |
3.170 | So long my Honour, Name, and Praise shall live! | |
What Time wou’d spare, from Steel receives its date,° | end | |
And Monuments, like Men, submit to Fate! | ||
Steel cou’d the Labour of the Gods destroy, | ||
And strike to Dust th’ Imperial Tow’rs of Troy. | ||
Steel cou’d the Works of mortal Pride confound,° | topple | |
And hew° Triumphal Arches to the Ground. | chop down | |
What Wonder then, fair Nymph! thy Hairs shou’d feel | ||
The conqu’ring Force of unresisted Steel? | ||
Canto IV |
||
But anxious Cares the pensive° Nymph opprest, | thoughtful | |
And secret Passions labour’d in her Breast. | ||
Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz’d alive, | ||
Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive, | ||
Not ardent° Lovers robb’d of all their Bliss, | passionate | |
Not ancient Ladies when refus’d a Kiss, | ||
Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, | ||
Not Cynthia when her Manteau’s° pinn’d awry,° | jacket — crooked | |
E’er felt such Rage, Resentment and Despair, | ||
4.10 | As Thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish’d° Hair. | |
carried off | ||
For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew, | ||
And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, | ||
Umbriel, a dusky melancholy Spright,° | dark, gloomy spirit | |
As ever sully’d° the fair face of Light, | dirtied | |
Down to the Central Earth, his proper Scene, | ||
Repairs° to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen. | ||
travels | ||
Swift on his sooty° Pinions° flitts the Gnome, | black — wings | |
And in a Vapour reach’d the dismal Dome.° | building | |
No cheerful Breeze this sullen° Region knows, | gloomy | |
4.20 | The dreaded East is all the Wind that blows. | |
Here, in a Grotto, sheltred close from Air, | ||
And screen’d in Shades from Day’s detested Glare, | ||
She sighs for ever on her pensive Bed, | ||
Pain at her side, and Megrim° at her Head. | ||
Migraine | ||
Two Handmaids wait the Throne: Alike in Place, | ||
But diff’ring far in Figure and in Face. | ||
Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient Maid, | ||
Her wrinkled Form in Black and White array’d;° | dressed | |
With store of Pray’rs, for Mornings, Nights, and Noons, | ||
4.30 | Her Hand is fill’d; her Bosom with Lampoons.° | |
nasty poems | ||
There Affectation with a sickly Mien° | appearance | |
Shows in her Cheek the Roses of Eighteen, | ||
Practis’d to Lisp, and hang the Head aside, | ||
Faints into Airs, and languishes with Pride; | ||
On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming° Woe, | attractive | |
Wrapt in a Gown, for Sickness, and for Show. | ||
The Fair ones feel such Maladies as these, | ||
When each new Night-Dress gives a new Disease. | ||
A constant Vapour o’er the Palace flies; | ||
4.40 | Strange Phantoms rising as the Mists arise; | |
Dreadful, as Hermit’s Dreams in haunted Shades, | ||
Or bright as Visions of expiring Maids. | ||
Now glaring Fiends,° and Snakes on rolling Spires, | devils | |
Pale Spectres, gaping Tombs, and Purple Fires: | ||
Now Lakes of liquid Gold, Elysian° Scenes, | like paradise | |
And Crystal Domes, and Angels in Machines. | ||
Unnumber’d Throngs on ev’ry side are seen | ||
Of Bodies chang’d to various Forms by Spleen. | ||
Here living Teapots stand, one Arm held out, | ||
4.50 | One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout: | |
A Pipkin there like Homer’s Tripod walks; | ||
Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose Pie talks; | ||
Men prove° with Child, as pow’rful Fancy works, | turn out to be | |
And Maids turn’d° Bottels, call aloud for Corks. | ||
transformed into | ||
Safe past the Gnome thro’ this fantastick° Band, | incredible | |
A Branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand. | ||
Then thus addrest the Pow’r — Hail wayward° Queen! | disobedient, strange, stubborn | |
Who rule the Sex° to Fifty from Fifteen, | womankind | |
Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit, | ||
4.60 | Who give th’ Hysteric or Poetic Fit, | |
On various Tempers act by various ways, | ||
Make some take Physick,° others scribble Plays; | medicine | |
Who cause the Proud their Visits to delay, | ||
And send the Godly in a Pett,° to pray. | temper tantrum | |
A Nymph there is, that all thy Pow’r disdains, | ||
And thousands more in equal Mirth maintains. | ||
But oh! if e’er thy Gnome could spoil a Grace, | ||
Or raise a Pimple on a beauteous Face, | ||
Like Citron-Waters° Matron’s Cheeks inflame, | lemon-flavored brandy | |
4.70 | Or change Complexions at a losing Game; | |
If e’er with airy Horns I planted Heads, | ||
Or rumpled Petticoats,° or tumbled Beds, | underwear | |
Or caus’d Suspicion when no Soul was rude, | ||
Or discompos’d the Head-dress of a Prude, | ||
Or e’er to costive° Lap-Dog gave Disease, | constipated | |
Which not the Tears of brightest Eyes could ease: | ||
Hear me, and touch Belinda with Chagrin;° | worry | |
That single Act gives half the World the Spleen. | ||
The Goddess with a discontented Air | ||
4.80 | Seems to reject him, tho’ she grants his Pray’r. | |
A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds, | ||
Like that where once Ulysses held the Winds; | ||
There she collects the Force of Female Lungs, | ||
Sighs, Sobs, and Passions, and the War of Tongues. | ||
A Vial next she fills with fainting Fears, | ||
Soft Sorrows, melting Griefs, and flowing Tears. | ||
The Gnome rejoicing bears her Gift away, | ||
Spreads his black Wings, and slowly mounts to Day. | ||
Sunk in Thalestris’° Arms the Nymph he found, | queen of the Amazons | |
4.90 | Her Eyes dejected and her Hair unbound. | |
Full o’er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent,° | tore open | |
And all the Furies issued° at the Vent. | came out | |
Belinda burns with more than mortal Ire, | ||
And fierce Thalestris fans the rising Fire. | ||
O wretched Maid! she spread her hands, and cry’d, | ||
(While Hampton’s Ecchos, wretched Maid reply’d) | ||
Was it for this you took such constant Care | ||
The Bodkin, Comb, and Essence to prepare; | ||
For this your Locks in Paper-Durance bound, | ||
4.100 | For this with tort’ring Irons° wreath’d around? | curling irons |
For this with Fillets° strain’d your tender Head, | headbands | |
And bravely bore the double Loads of Lead? | ||
Gods! shall the Ravisher display your Hair, | ||
While the Fops° envy, and the Ladies stare! | fashionable men | |
Honour forbid! at whose unrival’d Shrine | ||
Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign.° | give up | |
Methinks already I your Tears survey, | ||
Already hear the horrid things they say, | ||
Already see you a degraded Toast, | ||
4.110 | And all your Honour in a Whisper lost! | |
How shall I, then, your helpless Fame° defend? | reputation | |
’Twill then be Infamy° to seem your Friend! | disagrace | |
And shall this Prize, th’ inestimable Prize, | ||
Expos’d thro’ Crystal to the gazing Eyes, | ||
And heighten’d by the Diamond’s circling Rays, | ||
On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze? | ||
Sooner shall Grass in Hide Park Circus grow, | ||
And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of Bow; | ||
Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall, | ||
4.120 | Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! | |
She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,° | goes | |
And bids her Beau demand the precious Hairs: | ||
(Sir Plume, of Amber Snuff-box justly vain, | ||
And the nice Conduct of a clouded Cane) | ||
With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face, | ||
He first the Snuff-box open’d, then the Case, | ||
And thus broke out — “My Lord, why, what the Devil? | ||
“Z—ds! damn the Lock! ’fore Gad,° you must be civil! | by God | |
“Plague on’t! ’tis past a Jest — nay prithee, Pox! | ||
4.130 | “Give her the Hair — he spoke, and rapp’d his Box. | |
It grieves me much (reply’d the Peer again) | ||
Who speaks so well shou’d ever speak in vain. | ||
But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear, | ||
(Which never more shall join its parted Hair, | ||
Which never more its Honours shall renew, | ||
Clipt from the lovely Head where late it grew) | ||
That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air, | ||
This Hand, which won it, shall for ever wear. | ||
He spoke, and speaking, in proud Triumph spread | ||
4.140 | The long-contended Honours of her Head. | |
But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears° not so; | resists | |
He breaks the Vial whence° the Sorrows flow. | from which | |
Then see! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears, | ||
Her Eyes half languishing, half drown’d in Tears; | ||
On her heav’d Bosom hung her drooping Head, | ||
Which, with a Sigh, she rais’d; and thus she said. | ||
For ever curs’d be this detested Day, | ||
Which snatch’d my best, my fav’rite Curl away! | ||
Happy! ah ten times happy, had I been, | ||
4.150 | If Hampton-Court these Eyes had never seen! | |
Yet am not I the first mistaken Maid, | ||
By Love of Courts to num’rous Ills betray’d. | ||
Oh had I rather un-admir’d remain’d | ||
In some lone Isle, or distant Northern Land; | ||
Where the gilt Chariot° never marks the way, | golden carriage | |
Where none learn Ombre, none e’er taste Bohea!° | a kind of tea | |
There kept my Charms conceal’d from mortal Eye, | ||
Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die. | ||
What mov’d my Mind with youthful Lords to rome? | ||
4.160 | O had I stay’d, and said my Pray’rs at home! | |
’Twas this, the Morning Omens seem’d to tell; | ||
Thrice from my trembling hand the Patch-box° fell; | collection of artificial beauty-marks | |
The tott’ring China shook without a Wind, | ||
Nay, Poll sate mute, and Shock was most Unkind! | ||
A Sylph too warn’d me of the Threats of Fate, | ||
In mystic Visions, now believ’d too late! | ||
See the poor Remnants° of these slighted Hairs! | remains | |
My hands shall rend what ev’n thy Rapine° spares: | theft | |
These, in two sable° Ringlets taught to break, | black | |
4.170 | Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck. | |
The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth,° alone, | awkward | |
And in its Fellow’s Fate foresees its own; | ||
Uncurl’d it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands; | ||
And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands. | ||
Oh hadst thou, Cruel! been content to seize | ||
Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these! | ||
Canto V |
||
She said: the pitying Audience melt in Tears, | ||
But Fate and Jove had stopp’d the Baron’s Ears. | ||
In vain Thalestris with Reproach assails,° | attacks with blame | |
For who can move when fair Belinda fails? | ||
Not half so fixt the Trojan cou’d remain, | ||
While Anna begg’d and Dido rag’d in vain. | ||
Then grave° Clarissa graceful wav’d her Fan; | serious | |
Silence ensu’d, and thus the Nymph began. | ||
Say, why are Beauties prais’d and honour’d most, | ||
5.10 | The wise Man’s Passion, and the vain Man’s Toast? | |
Why deck’d with all that Land and Sea afford,° | offer | |
Why Angels call’d, and Angel-like ador’d? | ||
Why round our Coaches crowd the white-glov’d Beaus, | ||
Why bows the Side-box from its inmost Rows? | ||
How vain are all these Glories, all our Pains, | ||
Unless good Sense preserve what Beauty gains: | ||
That Men may say, when we the Front-box grace, | ||
Behold the first in Virtue, as in Face! | ||
Oh! if to dance all Night, and dress all Day, | ||
5.20 | Charm’d the Small-pox,° or chas’d old Age away; | a disfiguring and often deadly virus |
Who would not scorn what Huswife’s° Cares produce, | housewife’s | |
Or who would learn one earthly Thing of Use? | ||
To patch, nay ogle,° might become a Saint, | stare | |
Nor could it sure be such a Sin to paint.° | wear makeup | |
But since, alas! frail Beauty must decay, | ||
Curl’d or uncurl’d, since Locks will turn to grey, | ||
Since paint’d, or not paint’d, all shall fade, | ||
And she who scorns a Man, must die a Maid;° | virgin | |
What then remains, but well our Pow’r to use, | ||
5.30 | And keep good Humour still whate’er we lose? | |
And trust me, Dear! good Humour can prevail, | ||
When Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scolding fail. | ||
Beauties in vain their pretty Eyes may roll; | ||
Charms strike the Sight, but Merit wins the Soul. | ||
So spake the Dame, but no Applause ensu’d;° | followed | |
Belinda frown’d, Thalestris call’d her Prude. | ||
To Arms, to Arms! the fierce Virago° cries, | a masculine or warlike woman | |
And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies. | ||
All side in Parties, and begin th’ Attack; | ||
5.40 | Fans clap, Silks russle, and tough Whalebones crack; | |
Heroes and Heroins Shouts confus’dly rise, | ||
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. | ||
and don’t fear | ||
So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage, | ||
And heav’nly Breasts with human Passions rage; | ||
’Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; | ||
And all Olympus rings with loud Alarms. | ||
Jove’s Thunder roars, Heav’n trembles all around; | ||
5.50 | Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing Deeps resound;° | echo |
Earth shakes her nodding Tow’rs, the Ground gives way; | ||
And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day! | ||
Triumphant Umbriel on a Sconce’s Height | ||
Clapt his glad Wings, and sate° to view the Fight, | sat | |
Propt on their Bodkin° Spears, the Sprights survey | hairpin | |
The growing Combat, or assist the Fray. | ||
While thro’ the Press enrag’d Thalestris flies, | ||
And scatters Deaths around from both her Eyes, | ||
A Beau and Witling perish’d in the Throng, | ||
5.60 | One dy’d in Metaphor, and one in Song. | |
O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear, | ||
Cry’d Dapperwit, and sunk beside his Chair. | ||
A mournful Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, | ||
Those Eyes are made so killing — was his last: | ||
Thus on Meander’s flow’ry Margin° lies | bank, riverside | |
Th’ expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies. | ||
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, | ||
Chloe stept in, and kill’d him with a Frown; | ||
She smil’d to see the doughty° Hero slain, | brave | |
5.70 | But at her Smile, the Beau reviv’d again. | |
Now Jove suspends° his golden Scales in Air, | hangs | |
Weighs the Mens Wits against the Lady’s Hair; | ||
The doubtful Beam° long nods from side to side; | (part of a scale) | |
At length the Wits mount up, the Hairs subside.° | ||
go down | ||
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,° | attacks | |
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 indu’d,° | endowed | |
5.80 | 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; | powdered tobacco — clever | |
The Gnomes direct, to ev’ry Atome just, | ||
The pungent Grains of titillating Dust. | ||
Sudden, with starting Tears each Eye o’erflows, | ||
And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose. | ||
Now meet thy Fate, incens’d° Belinda cry’d, | furious | |
And drew a deadly Bodkin° from her Side. | hairpin | |
(The same, his ancient Personage to deck,° | decorate | |
5.90 | Her great great Grandsire° wore about his Neck | grandfather |
In three Seal-Rings which after, melted down, | ||
Form’d a vast Buckle for his Widow’s Gown: | ||
Her infant Grandame’s° Whistle next it grew, | grandmother’s | |
The Bells she gingled, and the Whistle blew; | ||
Then in a Bodkin grac’d her Mother’s Hairs, | ||
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; | ||
5.100 | All that I dread, is leaving you behind! | |
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.° | echo | |
Not fierce Othello° in so loud a Strain | character in Shakespeare’s play | |
Roar’d 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 lost! | struggle | |
The Lock, obtain’d with Guilt, and kept with Pain, | ||
5.110 | In ev’ry place is sought,° but sought in vain: | looked for |
With such a Prize no Mortal must be blest, | ||
So Heav’n decrees! with Heav’n who can contest?° | ||
compete | ||
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere,° | the moon | |
Since all things lost on Earth, are treasur’d there. | ||
There Heroe’s Wits are kept in pondrous° Vases, | heavy | |
And Beau’s in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Cases. | ||
There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms° are found, | charity | |
And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband° bound; | ribbon | |
The Courtiers Promises, and Sick Man’s Pray’rs, | ||
5.120 | The Smiles of Harlots,° and the Tears of Heirs, | whores |
Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea; | ||
Dry’d Butterflies, and Tomes of Casuistry.° | ||
pointless logical arguments | ||
But trust the Muse — she saw it upward rise, | ||
Tho’ mark’d° by none but quick Poetic Eyes: | noticed | |
(So Rome’s great Founder to the Heav’ns withdrew, | ||
To Proculus alone confess’d in view) | ||
A sudden Star, it shot thro’ liquid° Air, | clear | |
And drew behind a radiant Trail of Hair. | ||
Not Berenice’s Locks first rose so bright, | ||
5.130 | The heav’ns bespangling° with dishevel’d light. | sparkling |
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, | ||
And pleas’d pursue its Progress thro’ the Skies. | ||
This the Beau-monde° shall from the Mall survey, | high society | |
And hail with Musick its propitious° Ray. | promising good fortune | |
This, the blest Lover shall for Venus take, | ||
And send up Vows from Rosamonda’s Lake. | ||
This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless Skies, | ||
When next he looks thro’ Galilæo’s Eyes; | ||
And hence th’ Egregious Wizard shall foredoom | ||
5.140 | The Fate of Louis, and the Fall of Rome. | |
Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the ravish’d Hair | ||
Which adds new Glory to the shining Sphere!° | sky | |
Not all the Tresses° that fair Head can boast | locks of hair | |
Shall draw such Envy as the Lock you lost. | ||
For, after all the Murders of your Eye, | ||
When, after Millions slain, your self shall die; | ||
When those fair Suns shall sett, as sett they must, | ||
And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust; | ||
This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate° to Fame, | make holy | |
5.150 | And mid’st the Stars inscribe° Belinda’s Name! | write |