At every word a reputation dies.
Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat,
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day,
The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; 20
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang that jurymen may dine;
The merchant from th’ Exchange returns in peace,
And the long labours of the toilet cease.
Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, 25
Burns to encounter two adventurous knights,
At Ombre singly to decide their doom,
And swells her breast with conquests yet to come.
Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join,
Each band the number of the sacred Nine. 30
Soon as she spreads her hand, th’ aërial 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, 35
Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
Behold four Kings in majesty revered,
With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain a flower
Th’ expressive emblem of their softer power; 40
Four Knaves, in garbs succinct, a trusty band,
Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand
And party-colour’d troops, a shining train,
Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.
The skilful nymph reviews her force with care; 45
‘Let Spades be trumps!’ she said, and trumps they were.
Now move to war her sable Matadores,
In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors.
Spadillio first, unconquerable lord!
Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board. 50
As many more Manillio forced 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.
With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, 55
The hoary Majesty of Spades appears,
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,
Proves the just victim of his royal rage. 60
Ev’n mighty Pam, that kings and queens o’erthrew,
And mow’d down armies in the fights of Loo,
Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
Falls undistinguish’d by the victor Spade.
Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; 65
Now to the Baron Fate inclines the field.
His warlike amazon her host invades,
Th’ imperial consort of the crown of Spades.
The Club’s black tyrant first her victim died,
Spite of his haughty mien and barb’rous pride: 70
What boots the regal circle on his head,
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; 75
Th’ embroider’d King who shows but half his face,
And his refulgent Queen, with powers combin’d,
Of broken troops an easy conquest find.
Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen,
With throngs promiscuous strew the level green. 80
Thus when dispers’d a routed army runs,
Of Asia’s troops, and Afric’s sable sons,
With like confusion diff’rent nations fly,
Of various habit, and of various dye;
The pierced battalions disunited fall 85
In heaps on heaps; one fate o’erwhelms them all.
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts,
And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts.
At this, the blood the virgin’s cheek forsook,
A livid paleness spreads o’er all her look; 90
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)
On one nice trick depends the gen’ral fate!
An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen 95
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.
The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the sky;
The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. 100
Oh thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
Too soon dejected, and too soon elate:
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, 105
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round;
On shining altars of japan they raise
The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
While China’s earth receives the smoking tide. 110
At once they gratify their scent and taste,
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Straight hover round the Fair her airy band;
Some, as she sipp’d, the fuming liquor fann’d,
Some o’er her lap their careful plumes display’d, 115
Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.
Coffee (which makes the politician wise,
And see thro’ all things with his half-shut eyes)
Sent up in vapors to the Baron’s brain
New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. 120
Ah, cease, rash youth! desist ere ‘t is too late,
Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla’s fate!
Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air,
She dearly pays for Nisus’ injured hair!
But when to mischief mortals bend their will, 125
How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace
A two-edg’d weapon from her shining case:
So ladies in romance assist their knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. 130
He takes the gift with rev’rence, and extends
The little engine on his fingers’ ends;
This just behind Belinda’s neck he spread,
As o’er the fragrant steams she bends her head.
Swift to the Lock a thousand sprites repair; 135
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
The close recesses of the virgin’s thought: 140
As on the nosegay in her breast reclin’d,
He watch’d th’ ideas rising in her mind,
Sudden he view’d, in spite of all her art,
An earthly Lover lurking at her heart.
Amazed, confused, he found his power expired, 145
Resign’d to fate, and with a sigh retired.
The Peer now spreads the glitt’ring forfex wide,
T’ inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide.
Ev’n then, before the fatal engine closed,
A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed; 150
Fate urged the shears, and cut the Sylph in twain
(But airy substance soon unites again).
The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
>
Then flash’d the living lightning from her eyes, 155
And screams of horror rend th’ affrighted skies.
Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast,
When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last;
Or when rich China vessels, fall’n from high,
In glitt’ring dust and painted fragments lie! 160
‘Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine,’
The Victor cried, ‘the glorious prize is mine!
While fish in streams, or birds delight in air,
Or in a coach and six the British Fair,
As long as Atalantis shall be read, 165
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,
So long my honour, name, and praise shall live! 170
What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date,
And monuments, like men, submit to Fate!
Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy,
And strike to dust th’ imperial towers of Troy;
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound 175
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
What wonder, then, fair Nymph! thy hairs should feel
The conquering force of unresisted steel?’
The Rape of the Lock: CantoIV
BUT anxious cares the pensive nymph opprest,
And secret passions labour’d in her breast.
Not youthful kings in battle seiz’d alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss, 5
Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her mantua’s pinn’d awry,
E’er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
As thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish’d hair. 10
For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,
And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew,
Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite
As ever sullied the fair face of light,
Down to the central earth, his proper scene, 15
Repair’d to search the gloomy cave of Spleen.
Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome,
And in a vapour reach’d the dismal dome.
No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows,
The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. 20
Here in a grotto shelter’d 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.
Two handmaids wait the throne; alike in place, 25
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!
With store of prayers for mornings, nights, and noons,
Her hand is fill’d, her bosom with lampoons. 30
There Affectation, with a sickly mien,
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, 35
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
Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise; 40
Dreadful as hermits’ dreams in haunted shades,
Or bright as visions of expiring maids:
Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires,
Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires;
Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, 45
And crystal domes, and angels in machines.
Unnumber’d throngs on ev’ry side are seen,
Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen.
Here living Teapots stand, one arm held out,
One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: 50
A Pipkin there, like Homer’s Tripod walks;
Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie talks;
Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works,
And maids turn’d bottles call aloud for corks.
Safe pass’d the Gnome thro’ this fantastic band, 55
A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand.
Then thus address’d the Power—’Hail, wayward Queen!
Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen:
Parent of Vapours and of female wit,
Who give th’ hysteric or poetic fit, 60
On various tempers act by various ways,
Make some take physic, others scribble plays;
Who cause the proud their visits to delay,
And send the godly in a pet to pray.
A nymph there is that all your power disdains, 65
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 matrons’ cheeks inflame,
Or change complexions at a losing game; 70
If e’er with airy horns I planted heads,
Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds,
Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude,
Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude,
Or e’er to costive lapdog gave disease, 75
Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease,
Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin;
That single act gives half the world the spleen.’
The Goddess, with a discontented air,
Seems to reject him tho’ she grants his prayer. 80
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, 85
Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears.
The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away,
Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day.
Sunk in Thalestris’ arms the nymph he found,
Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound. 90
Full o’er their heads the swelling Bag he rent,
And all the Furies issued at the vent.
Belinda burns with more than mortal ire,
And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.
‘O wretched maid!’ she spread her hands, and cried 95
(While Hampton’s echoes, ‘Wretched maid!’ replied),
Was it for this you took such constant care
The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare?
For this your locks in paper durance bound?
For this with torturing irons wreathed around? 100
For this with fillets strain’d your tender head,
And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair,
While the fops envy, and the ladies stare!
Honour forbid! at whose unrivall’d shrine 105
Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, all, our sex resign.
Methinks already I your tears survey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded toast,
And all your honour in a whisper lost! 110
How shall I, then, your hapless fame defend?
‘T will then be infamy to seem your friend!
And shall this prize, th’ inestimable prize,
Exposed thro’ crystal to the gazing eyes,
And
heighten’d by the diamond’s circling rays, 115
On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?
Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow,
And Wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow;
Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall,
Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish all!’ 120
She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
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, 125
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!
Plague on ‘t! ‘t is past a jest — nay, prithee, pox!
Give her the hair.’ — He spoke, and rapp’d his box. 130
‘It grieves me much,’ replied the Peer again,
‘Who speaks so well should 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, 135
Clipp’d 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
The long-contended honours of her head. 140
But Umbriel, hateful Gnome, forbears not so;
He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow.
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, 145
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,
If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen! 150
Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,
By love of courts to numerous ills betray’d.
O had I rather unadmired remain’d
In some lone isle, or distant northern land;
Where the gilt chariot never marks the way, 155
Where none learn Ombre, none e’er taste Bohea!
There kept my charms conceal’d from mortal eye,
Like roses, that in deserts bloom and die.
What mov’d my mind with youthful lords to roam?
O had I stay’d, and said my prayers at home; 160
‘T was this the morning omens seem’d to tell,
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
The tott’ring china shook without a wind;
Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 23