And all Olympus rings with loud alarms;

Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around; 50 Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound; Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives

way,

And the pale 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. 55 Propp'd on their bodkin spears, the sprites survey The growing combat, or assist the fray.

While thro' the press enrag'd Thalestris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A beau and witling perish'd in the throng; 60 One died in metaphor, and one in song. "O cruel nymph! a living death I bear," Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upward cast; "Those eyes are made so killing

was his last. 65 Thus on Mæander's flow'ry 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, 70 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.

53. Minerva in like manner, during the battle of Ulysses with the suitors, perches on a beam of the roof to behold it. — POPE. 65.

"Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,

Ad vada Mæandri concinit albus olor."

Ovid, Epistle, vii. 2.- POPE.

71. See Homer, Iliad, viii., and Vergil, Æneid, xii. — POPE.

75

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,
80 She with one finger and a thumb subdu’d:
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.

85 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, 90 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 cried, "insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low. Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind: 100 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!" the vaulted roofs rebound. 1.5 Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain

Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.

89. In imitation of the progress of Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer, Iliad, ii. — POPE.

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, 110 In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain. 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 lost on earth are treasur'd there. 115 There heroes' wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases.

There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound, The courtier's promises, and sick man's pray'rs, 120 The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

But trust the Muse she saw it upward rise,

Tho' mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes; 125 (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, To Proculus alone confess'd in view) A sudden star, it shot thro' liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, 120 The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel❜d light. 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 survey,

And hail with music its propitious ray.

135 This the blest lover shall for Venus take, And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake;

113. See Ariosto, canto xxxiv.

128.

POPE.

"Flaminiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem

Stella micat."

Ovid. Metam., xv. 849, 850.

-POPE

This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes;

And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom 140 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: 145 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, 150 And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.

137. John Partridge was a ridiculous star-gazer, who in his almanacks every year never failed to predict the downfall of the Pope and the King of France, then at war with the English. POPE.

Partridge was the butt of Swift's famous hoax in 1707. See Macaulay's Essay on Addison.

AN ESSAY ON MAN

TO H. ST. JOHN LORD BOLINGBROKE.

THE DESIGN.

HAVING proposed to write some pieces on Human Life and Manners, such as, to use my Lord Bacon's expression, come home to men's business and bosoms, I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering Man in the abstract, his nature and his state; since to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being.

The science of Human Nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will forever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these last, and, I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice more than advanced the theory of morality. If I could flatter myself that this essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and ir forming a temperate, yet not inconsistent, and a short, yet not imperfect, system of ethics.

This I might have done in prose; but I chose verse, and even rhyme, for two reasons. The one will appear obvious;