THE

RAPE OF THE LOCK.

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,

For who can move when fair Belinda fails?

Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain,
While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her fan;
Silence ensu'd, and thus the nymph began.

Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most,

The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast?

Why deck'd with all the land and sea afford,

Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd?

Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd beaux?

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,

Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away,

Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce,

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?

To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint,

Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.