On her heav'd bofom hung her drooping head, 145 Which, with a figh, 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 feen!
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 1;
Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er tafte Bohea!
There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
Like roses that in deferts bloom and die.
What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to roam?
O had I stay'd, and faid my pray'rs at home!
'Twas this the morning omens feem'd to tell,
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
The tott'ring China fhook without a wind,
Nay Poll fat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate, 165
In mystic visions, now believ'd too late!
See the poor remnants of thefe flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares :
VER.155.Where the gilt Chariot] What aggravating circumstances of folitude!
VER. 163. The tott'ring China] The fatal prognostics that preceded the death of Cæfar, in the firft Georgic of Virgil, are not imagined with more propriety, or could be more alarming!
These in two fable ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck;
The fifter-lock now fits uncouth, alone,
And in its fellow's fate foresees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal fheers demands,
And tempts, once more, thy facrilegious hands.
Oh hadst thou, cruel! been content to feize
Hairs lefs in fight, or any hairs but these!
HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears,
But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears.
In vain Thaleftris with reproach affails,
For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
Not half fo fix'd the Trojan could remain,
While Anna begg'd and Dido, rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clariffa graceful wav'd her fan;
Silence enfu'd, and thus the Nymph began.
Say, why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toast? Why
VER. 7. Then grave Clariffa, &c.] A new Character introduced in the fubfequent Editions, to open more clearly the Moral of the Poem, in a parody of the fpeech of Sarpedon to Glaucus in Homer.
VER. 9. Say, why are Beauties, &c.]
Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus' ftreams enrich the Lycian plain;
Our num'rous herds that range the fruitful field,
And hills where vines their purple harvest yield;
Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd,
Our feafts enhanc'd with mufic's fprightly found;
Why on those shores are we with joy furvey'd,
Admir'd as heroes, and as Gods obey'd;
Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, II
Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?
Why round our coaches croud the white-glov❜d Beaus,
Why bows the fide-box from its inmost rows?
How vain are all thefe glories, all our pains, 15
Unless good fenfe preserve what beauty gains:
That men may fay, when we the front-box grace,
Behold the firft 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; 20
Who would not fcorn 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 fure be fuch a fin to paint.
IMITATIONS.
Unless great acts fuperior merit prove,
And vindicate the bounteous pow'rs above?
'Tis ours, the dignity they give, to grace;
The first in valour, as the first in place:
That when with wond'ring eyes our martial bands
Behold our deeds tranfcending our commands,
Such, they may cry, deserve the fov'reign state,
Whom thofe that envy dare not imitate.
Could all our care clude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no lefs the fearful than the brave,
For luft of fame I fhould not vainly dare
In fighting fields, nor urge thy foul to war.
But fince, alas! ignoble age must come,
Difeafe, and death's inexorable doom;
The life which others pay, let us bestow,
And give to fame what we to nature owe;
Brave tho' we fall, and honour'd if we live,
Or let us glory gain, or glory give.”
This paffage was the firft fpecimen our author gave of his translation of Homer; and it appeared first in the fixth volume of Dryden's Mifcellanies.
But fince, alas! frail beauty muft decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, fince Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all fhall fade,
And the who fcorns a man, muft die a maid;
What then remains but well our Pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour ftill whate'er we lofe?
And truft me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and fcolding fail.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the fight, but merit wins the foul.
So fpoke the Dame, but no applause ensu’d;
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris call'd her Prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And fwift as lightning to the combat flies.
All fide in parties, and begin th' attack;
Fans clap, filks ruftle, and tough whalebones crack; Heroes' and Heroines' fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafe and treble voices ftrike the fkies.
No common weapons in their hands are found, Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
VER. 37. To arms, to arms!] From hence the first Edition goes on to the conclufion, except a very few short infertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem.
VER. 26. Curl'd or uncurl'd,] Fontenelle writes a gallant and pleasant letter to a beautiful young lady on discovering one grey hair on her head.
VER. 35. So fpoke the Dame,] It is a verse frequently repeated in Homer after any speech,
"So fpoke-and all the Heroes applauded."
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