« AnteriorContinuar »
As many more Manillio forc'd 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, 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. Ev’n mighty Pam, that kings and queenso'erthrew, And mow'd down armies in the fights of Lu, Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid, Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; 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 dy'd, Spite of his haughty mien, and barbarous pride: 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; Th' embroider'd king who shows but half his face, And his refulgent queen, with powers combin'd, Qf broken troops an easy conquest find. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, With throngs promiscuous strow the level green. Thus when dispers'd a routed army runs, Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons, with like confusion different nations fly, Of various habit, and of various dye, The pierc'd battalions disunited fall, Inheaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all. The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, And wins (oh shameful chance 1) the Queen of Hearts. *this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook, Alivid paleness spreads o'er all her look; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, *in the jaws of ruin, and Čodille. And now (as oft in some distemper'd state) On one nice trick depends the general fate, An Ace of Hearts steps forth : the king unseen ork'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive queen: He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, *falls like thunder on the prostrate Áce. The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky; The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. 9thoughtless mortals' ever blind to fate, **oon dejected, and too soon elate. *len, these honours shall be snatch'd away, *d curs'd for ever this victorious day. For lo! the board with cups and spoonsis crown'd, berries crackle, and the mill turns round: **ining 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: At once they gratify their scent and taste, *frequent cups prolong the rich repast. *ight hover round the fair her airy band; **, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd, ..one o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd, Tombling, and conscious of the rich brocade. Coffee (which makes the politician wise, * *e through all things with his half-shut eyes) * up in vapours to the baron's brain "stratagems, the radiant lock to gain.
Ah cease, rash youth; desist ere 'tis too late,
E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish'd hair. For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew, And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite, As ever sully'd the fair face of light, Down to the central earth, his proper scene, Repair'd to search the gloomy cave of Spleen. Swift on his sootypinions 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. 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, But differing 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. 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, 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; 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, And crystal domes, and angels in machines. Unnumber'd throngs on every side are seen, Of bodies chang'd to various forms by Spleen. Here living tea-pots stand, one arm held out, One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: A pipkin there, like Homer's tripod, walks; Here sighs a jar, and there a goose-pye talks; Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works, And maids, turn'd bottles, call aloud for corks. Safe past the Gnome through this fantastic band, A branch of healing spleen-wort 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, Qn 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 thy power disdains, 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' checks inflame, Or change complexions at a losing game; If e'er with airy horns I planted heads, Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds, Or caus'd suspicion where no soul was rude, Qr discompos'd the head-dress of a prude, 9 o'er to costive lap-dog gave disease, Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease:
Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin:
On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping head, 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 favourite curl away: Happy! ah ten times happy had I been, If Hampton-Court these eyes had never seen 1 Yet am not I the first mistaken maid By love of courts to numerous ills betray’d. 0h had I rather unadmir’d remain'd In some lone isle, or distant northern land; Where the gilt chariot never marks the way, 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 2 Oh had I stay'd, and said my prayers at home ! 'Twas this, the morning omens seem'd to tell, Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell; The tottering china shook without a wind, Nay Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of Fate, In mystic visions, now believ'd too late See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs: My hand shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares: These in two sable ringlets taught to break, Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck; The Sister-lock now sits uncouth, alone, And in its fellow's fate foresees its own; Uncurl’d it hangs, the fatal shears demands, And tempts, once more, thy sacrilegious hands. Qohadst thou, cruel! been content to seize Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these 1"
§o 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? Nathalf 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 ensued, and thus the nymph began : ...“Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most, wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, Wy angels call’d, and angel-like ador'd? [beaux? by round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd "by bows the side-box from its inmost rows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, *good sense preserve what beauty gains: That men may say, when we the front-box grace, Belold the first in virtue as in face o' if to dance all night and dress all day, Som'd the small-pox, or chas'd old-age away; Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, 9, who would learn one earthly thing of use? *Patch, nay ogle, may become a saint; * could it sure be such a sin to paint. outsince, alas, frail beauty must decay; or 'd or uncurl’d, since locks will turn to grey; Painted, or not painted, all shall fade, *d he who scorns a man must die a maid ; * then remains, but well our power to use, *keep good-humour still, whate'er we lose?
"on airs, and flights, and screams, and scoiding |
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
way, And the o ghosts start at the flash of day ! Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height Clapp'd his glad wings, and sate to view the fight: Propp'd on their bodkin spears, the sprites survey The growing combat, or assist the fray. While through the press enrag’d Thalestris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A beau and witling perish'd in the throng, One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song. “O cruel nymph a living death I bear,” Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance sir Fopling upwards cast, “Those eyes are made so killing”— was his last. Thus on Maeander's flowery margin lies Th’ expiring swan, and as he sings he dies. When bold sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain, But, at her smile, the beau reviv'd again. Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See, fierce Belinda on the baron flies, 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 foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly strength endu'd, She with one finger and a thumb subdued: Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; The Gnomes direct, to every atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, 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-grandsire wore about his neck, 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 in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs, Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.) “Boast not my fall (he cry'd), insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low. Northink, to die dejects my lofty mind: All that I dread is leaving you behind |
Rather than so, 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 1" the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain 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 every place is sought, but sought in vain: With such a prize no mortal must be blest, So Heaven decrees' with Heaven who can contest? Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, Since all things lost on Earth are treasur'd there. There heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases, And beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases : 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 prayers, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry. But trust the Muse – she saw it upward rise, Though mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes: (So Rome's great founder to the Heavens withdrew, To Proculus alone confess'd in view :) A sudden star, it shot through liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, The Heaven bespangling with dishevell'd light. The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, And pleas'd pursue its progress through the skies. This the beau-monde shall from the Mall survey, And hail with music its propitious ray. This the blest lover shall for Venus take, And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake. This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks through Galileo's eyes; And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere ! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost. For, after all the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.
to MR. Addison's TRAGEDy or caro.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
In pitying Love, we but our weakness show,
Here tears shall flow from a more generous cause, |
ELOISA TO ABELARD.
Abelard and Eloísa flourished in the twelfth o tury; they were two of the most distinguio” persons of their age in learning and beauty, ho for nothing more famous than for their unfortunate passion. After a long course of al" mities, they retired each to a several convent, and consecrated the remainder of their days to * ligion. It was many years after this separation. that a letter of Abelard's to a friend, which to: tained the history of his misfortune, fell into the hands of Eloisa. This awakening all her to: derness, occasioned those celebrated letters (* of which the following is partly extracted)who give so lively a picture of the struggles of gro" and nature, virtue and passion.
In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
0, write it not, my hand—the name appears Already written — wash it out, my tears : In vain lost Eloísa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn' Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep; And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep Though cold like you, unmov’d and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part, Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart; Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh, name for ever sad for ever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led through a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom There stern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, There dy'd the best of passions, love and fame. Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor Fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they 7 Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, Love but demands what else were shed in prayer; No happier task these faded eyes pursue; To read and weep is all they now can do. Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; [spires, They live, they speak, they breathe what love inWarm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, e emanation of th' All-beauteous Mind. Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray, Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; Heaven listen’d while you sung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love: Back through the paths of pleasing sense Iran, Nor wish'd an angel whom I lov'd a man. Dim and remote the joys of saints I see, Nor envy them that Heaven I lose for thee. How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which Love has made 1 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, August her deed, and sacred be her fame; Before true passion all those views remove ; Fame, wealth, and honour ! what are you to love? The jealous god, when we prophane his fires, Those rustless passions in revenge inspires,
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,