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Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs, 95 Which long the 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 : All that I dread is leaving you behind !
100 Rather than fo, 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. Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain
105 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! The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain, In ev'ry place is fought, but sought in vain: IIO With such a prize no mortal must be blest, So heav'n decrees ! with heav'n who can contest?
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treasur'd there." There Hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And Beau's in snuff-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 prornises, and fick man's pray’rs, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 120 Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.
But trust the Muse-she saw it upward rise, Tho'mark’d by none, but quick, poetic eyes :
(So VER. 114. Since all things loj?] Vid. Ariosto. Canto Xxxiv. P.
(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. Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright, The heay'ns bespangling with disheveld light. 139 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 furvey, And hail with music its propitious ray: This the bleft Lover shall for Venus take,
VER. 137. This Partridge foon) John Partridge was a ridiculous Star-gazer, who in his Almanacks every year never fail'd to predict the downfal of the Pope, and the King of France, then at war with the English, P.
IMIȚATIO X S.
Flamur:iferumque trahens fpatiofo limite crinem
For, after all the murders of your eye, 145
E L E G Y
To the MEMORY of an
Why bade ye else, ye Pow'rs! her soul aspire
* See the Duke of Buckingham's verses to a Lady defigoing to retire into a Monastery compared with Mr. Pope's Letters to several Ladies, p. 206. She seems to be the same person whose unfortunate death is the fubject of this poem. P.
Thence to their images on earth it flows, 15
From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die)
But thou, falfe guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood ! 30 See on these ruby lips the trembling breath, These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death; Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And thofe love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if Eternal justice rules the ball,
35 Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall: On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent herses shall besiege your gates. There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) 40 Lo these were they, whose souls the Furies steeld, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day ! So perifh all, whose breast ne'er learn’d to glow For others good, or melt at others woe.