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She smild to see the doughty heroe slain,
Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air,
75 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 fve to die. But this bold Lord with manly strength endu'd, She with one finger and a thumb subdu’d: 8 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of Snuff the wily virgin threw; The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o’erflows, 85 ' 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 same, his ancient personage to deck, Her great great grandfire wore about his neck, go 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, The bells, she jingled, and the whistle blew;
Then VER. 71. Now Jove, etc.] Vid. Homer II. viii. and Virg. Æn. xii.
IMITATIONS. VER. 83. The Gnomes direa,] These two lines added: for the above reason. P.
Ver. 89. The same, his ancient personage to deck.] In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's - sceptre in Homer, II. ii. P.
Then in a bodķin grac'd her mother's hairs, 95
Boast not my fall (he cry'd) insulting foe!
Restore the Lock! she cries; and all around
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 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-cases. 116 There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promises, and sick 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 cafuistry.
But trust the Muse-she saw it upward risc, Tho'mark'd by none, but quick, poetic eyes :
(S0 VER. 114. Since all things 10j1] Vid. Ariosto. Canto xxxiv.
(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew,
This the Beau monde shall from the Mall survey,
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 Eaglish.
Ilmmiferum:que trabens spatioso limite crinem
For, after all the murders of your eye, 145
E L E G Y
To the MEMORY of an
HAT beck’ning ghost, along the moon
light shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 'Tis The ! — but why that bleeding bosom gor’d, Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell,
Why bade ye elfe, ye Pow'rs! her soul aspire
* 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. She seems to be the same person whofe unfortunate death is the subject of this poem. P.