Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
And gladly praise the merit of a foe?
Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd;
A knowledge both of books and human kind;
Generous converse; a soul exempt from pride;
And love to praise, with reason on his side?

[646

Such once were critics; such the happy few Athens and Rome in better ages knew: The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore, Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore: He steer'd securely, and discover'd far, Led by the light of the Mæonian star. Poets, a race long unconfin'd and free, Still fond and proud of savage liberty, Receiv'd his laws; and stood convine'd 'twas fit, Who conquer'd Nature, should preside o'er Wit.

Thus long succeeding critics justly reign'd,
License repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd.
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew,
And Arts still follow'd where her eagles flew ;
From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom,
And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome.
With Tyranny, then Superstition join'd,
As that the body, this enslav'd the mind;
Much was believed, but little understood,
And to be dull was construed to be good:
A second deluge Learning thus o'er-ran,
And the Monks finish'd what the Goths began.

At length Erasmus, that great injur'd name,
(The glory of the priesthood, and the shame!)
Stem'd the wild torrent of a barbarous age,
And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.

689

Horace still charms with graceful negligence, And without method talks us into sense, Will like a friend, familiarly convey The truest notions in the easiest way. He who supreme in judgment, as in wit, Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ, Yet judg'd with coolness, though he sung with fire; His precepts teach but what his works inspire. Our critics take a contrary extreme, They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm: Nor suffers Horace more in wrong translations By wits, than critics in as wrong quotations. See Dionysius Homer's thoughts retine, And call new beauties forth from every line! Fancy and art in gay Petronius please, The scholar's learning, with the courtier's ease. In grave Quintilian's copious work, we find The justest rules and clearest method join'd: Thus useful arms in magazines we place, All rang'd in order, and dispos'd with grace, But less to please the eye, than arm the hand, 673 Still fit for use, and ready at command.

[668

Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire, And bless their critic with a poet's fire. An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust, With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just; Whose own example strengthens all his laws; And is himself that great Sublime he draws.

VARIATIONS.

Between ver. 646 and 649, I found the following lines, since suppressed by the author:

That bold Columbus of the realms of wit,
Whose first discovery's not exceeded yet,
Led by the light of the Mæonian star,
He steer'd securely and discover'd far.
He, when all Nature was subdued before,
Like his great pupil, sigh'd, and long'd for more:
Fancy's wild regions yet unvanquish'd lay,
A boundless empire, and that own'd no sway.
Poets, &c.

After ver. 648. the first edition reads,

Not only Nature did his laws obey,
But Fancy's boundless empire own'd his sway.
Ver. 655. Docs, like a friend, &c.

Ver. 655, 656. These lines are not in Ed. 1.
Ver. 668. The scholar's learning and the courtier's
Ver. 673, &c.

[723

But soon, by impious arms from Latium chas'd, Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd: Thence arts o'er all the northern world advance, But critic-learning flourish'd most in France: The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys; And Boileau still in right of Horace sways. But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despis'd, And kept unconquer'd, and unciviliz'd; Fierce for the liberties of Wit, and bold, We still defy'd the Romans, as of old. Yet some there were among the sounder few Of those who less presum'd, and better knew, Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws. Such was the Muse, whose rules and practice tell, "Nature's chief master-piece is writing well." Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good, To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, With manners generous as his noble blood; And every author's merit but his own. Such late was Walsh-the Muse's judge and friend, Who justly knew to blame or to commend; To failings mild, but zealous for desert; The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. This humble praise, lamented shade! receive, This praise at least a grateful Muse may give: The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing, Prescrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing, (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise, But in low nuinbers short excursions tries: [view, Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may The learn'd reflect on what before they knew:

VARIATIONS.

Nor thus alone the curious eye to please,
But to be found, when need requires, with ease.
The Muses sure Longinus did inspire,
And bless'd their critic with a poet's fire.
An ardent judge, that zealous, &c.

Between ver. 690 and 691, the author omitted these Vain wits and critics were no more allow'd, [two: When none but saints had license to be proud Ver. 723, 724. These lines are not in Ed. 1

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
Averse alike, to flatter or offend;

Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend,

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK;

AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR M DCC XII,

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.

Mart.

Ir appears by the motto, that the following poem was written or published at the lady's request: But there are some further circumstances not unworthy relating. Mr. Caryl (a gentleman | who was secretary to queen Mary, wife of James II. whose fortunes he followed into France, author of the comedy of Sir Solomon Single, and of several translations in Dryden's Miscellanies) originally proposed the subject to him, in a view of putting an end, hy this piece of ridicule, to a quarrel that was risen between two noble families, those of lord Petre and of Mrs. Fermor, on the trifling occasion of his having cut off a lock of her hair. The author sent it to the lady, with whom he was acquainted; and she took it so well as too give about copies of it. That first sketch (we learn from one of his letters) was written in less than a fortnight, in 1711, in two Cantos only; and it was so printed, first, in a Miscellany of Bern. Lintot's, without the name of the author: but it was received so well, that he made it more considerable the next year, by the addition of the machinery of the Sylphs, and extended it to five Cantos. We shall give the reader the pleasure of seeing in what manner these additions were inserted, so as to seem not to be added, but to grow out of the poem. Sec Canto I. ver. 19, &c.

This insertion he always esteemed, and justly, the greatest effort of his skill and art as a poet,

TO MRS, ARABELLA FERMOR, MADAM,

IT will be in vain to deny that I have some regard for this piece, since I dedicate it to you; yet you may bear me witness, it was intended only to divert a few young ladies, who have good sense and good humour enough to laugh not only at their sex's little unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it was communicated with the air of a secret, it soon found its way into the world. An imperfect copy having been offered to a bookseller, you had the good-nature for my sake to consent to the publication of one more correct. This I was forced to, before I had executed half my design, for the machinery was entirely wanting to complete it.

The machinery, madam, is a term invented by the critics, to signify that part which the deities, angels, or demons, are made to act in a poem : for the ancient poets are in one respect like many modern ladies; let an action be never so trivial in itself, they always make it appear of the utmost

importance. These machines I determined to raise on a very new and odd foundation, the Rosicrusian doctrine of spirits.

I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard words before a lady; but it is so much the concern of a poet to have his works understood, and particularly by your sex, that you must give me leave to explain two or three difficult terms.

The Rosicrusians are a people I must bring you acquainted with. The best account I know of them is in a French book called Le Comte de Gabalis, which, both in its title and size, is so like a novel, that many of the fair sex have read it for one by mistake. According to these gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by spirits which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes, or Demons of Earth, delight in mischief; but the Sylphs, whose habitation is in the air, are the best-conditioned creatures imaginable; for they say, any mortals may enjoy the most intimate familiarities with these gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true adepts, an inviolate preservation of chastity.

As to the following cantos, all the passages of them are as fabulous as the vision at the beginning, or the transformation at the end (except the loss of your hair, which I always mention with reverence). The human persons are as fictitions as the airy ones; and the character of Belinda, as it is now managed, resembles you in nothing but in beauty.

If this poem had as many graces as there are in your person, or in your mind, yet I could never hope it should pass through the world half so uncensured as you have done. But let its fortune be what it will, mine is happy enough, to have given me this occasion of assuring you, that I am, with the truest esteem,

madam,

your most obedient, humble servant, A. POPE.

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK,

CANTO I.

WHAT dire offence from amorous causes springs,
What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
I sing this verse to Caryl, Muse! is due:
This ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view :

Slight is the subject, but not so the praise,
If she inspire, and he approve my lays.

Say what strange motive, goddess! could compel
A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle?
O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd,
Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?
In tasks so bold, can little men engage?
And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage?
Sol through white curtains shot a timorous ray,
And ope'd those eyes that must eclipse the day:

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 11, 12. It was in the first editions,

And dwells such rage in softest bosoms then, And lodge such daring souls in little men? Ver. 13, &c. stood thus in the first edition :

11

Sol through white curtains did his beams display, And ope'd those eyes which brighter shone than

they ;

Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest:
'Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed
The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head.
A youth more glittering than a birth-night beau
(That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to glow)
Seem'd to her ear his winning lips, to lay,
And thus in whispers said, or scem'd to say:
"Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care
Of thousand bright inhabitants of air!
If e'er one vision touch thy infant thought,
Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught;
Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen,
The silver token, and the circled green,
Or virgins visited by angel-powers,
With golden crowns and wreaths of heavenly flowers;
Hear, and believe! thy own importance know,
Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal'd,
To maids alone and children are reveal'd;
What, though no credit doubting wits may give,
The fair and innocent shall still believe.
Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly,
The light militia of the lower sky:
These, though unseen, are ever on the wing,
Hang o'er the box, and hover round the ring.
Think what an equipage thou hast in air,
And view with scorn two pages and a chair.
As now your own, our beings were of old,
And once enclos'd in woman's beauteous mould;
Thence, by a soft transition, we repair
From earthly vehicles to these of air.

Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled,
That all her vanities at once are dead:

Succeeding vanities she still regards,
And though she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards.
Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive,
And love of ombre, after death survive.
For when the fair in all their pride expire,
To their first elements their souls retire:
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
Mount up, and take a Salamander's name.
Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
And sip, with nymphs, their elemental tea.
The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome,
In search of mischief still on Earth to roam.
The light coquettes in Sylphis aloft repair,
And sport and flutter in the fields of air.

"Know farther yet; whoever fair and chaste
Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embrac'd:
For, spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.
What guards the purity of melting maids,
In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades,

VARIATIONS.

Shock just had given himself the rouzing shake, And nymphs prepar'd their chocolate to take; Thrice the wrought slipper knock'd against the ground,

And striking watches the tenth hour resound. Ver. 19. Belinda still, &c. All the verses from hence to the end of this canto were added afterwards.

Safe from the treacherous friend, the daring spark,
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,
When kind occasion prompts their warm desires,
When music softens, and when dancing fires?
"Tis but their Sylph, the wise celestials know,
Though honour is the word with men below.

"Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their
face,

For life predestin'd to the Gnomes embrace.
These swell their prospects, and exalt their pride,
When offers are disdain'd, and love deny'd:
Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain,
While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train,
And garters, stars, and coronets appear,
And in soft sounds, 'your grace' salutes their ear.
'Tis these that carly taint the female soul,
Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll,
Teach infant cheeks a hidden blush to know,
And little hearts to flutter at a beau.

"Oft, when the world imagine women stray,
The Sylphs through mystic mazes guide their way,
Through all the giddy circle they pursue,
And old impertinence expel by new.

What tender maid but must a victim fall
To one man's treat, but for another's bat!?
When Florio speaks, what virgin could withstand,
If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand?
With varying vanities, from every part,
They shift the moving Toy-shop of their heart;
Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-
knots strive,

Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive.
This erring mortals, levity may call;
Oh, blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it all.

"Of these am I, who thy protection claim,
A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name.
Late, as I rang'd the crystal wilds of air,
In the clear mirror of thy ruling star

I saw, alas! some dread event impend,
Ere to the main this morning sun descend;
But Heaven reveals not what, or how, or where:
Warn'd by the Sylph, oh pious maid, beware!
This to disclose is all thy guardian can:
Beware of all, but most beware of man!"

[long,

He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too Leap'd up, and wak'd his mistress with his tongue. 'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true, Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux; Wounds, charms, and ardours were no sooner read, But all the vision vanish'd from thy head.

And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd, Each silver vase in mystic order laid. First, rob'd in white, the nymph intent adores, With head uncover'd, the cosmetic powers. A heavenly image in the glass appears, To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears; Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling, begins the sacred rites of Pride. Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here The various offerings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls with curious toil, And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white. Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. Now awful Beauty puts on all its arms; The fair each moment rises in her charms,

Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace,
And calls forth all the wonders of her face:
Sees by degrees a purer blush arise,

And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
The busy Sylphs surround their darling care:
These set the head, and those divide the hair;
Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown;
And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own.

CANTO II.

4

[shone,

NoT with more glories in th' ethereal plain,
The Sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams
Lanch'd on the bosom of the silver'd Thames.
Fair nymphs and well-dress'd youths around her
But every eye was fix'd on her alone.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those:
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
Bright as the Sun, her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the Sun, they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
If to her share some female errours fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.

This nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well conspir'd to deck
With shining ringlets the smooth ivory neck.
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
With hairy springes we the birds betray;
Slight lines of hair surprize the finny prey;
Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare,
And Beauty draws us with a single hair.

Th' adventuous baron the bright locks admir'd; He saw, he wish'd, and to the prize aspir'd. Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way, By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; For when success a lover's toil attends, Few ask if fraud or force attain'd his ends.

For this, ere Phabus rose, he had implor'd
Propitious Heaven, and every power ador'd;
But chiefly Love-to Love an altar built,
Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt.
There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves,
And all the trophies of his former loves.
With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,
And breathes three amorous sighs to raise the fire.
Then prostrate fails, and begs with ardent eyes
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize:
The powers gave car, and granted half his prayer;
The rest, the winds dispers'd in empty air.

But now secure the painted vessel glides,
The sun-beams treinbling on the floating tides;
While melting music steals upon the sky,
And soften'd sounds along the waters die;

VARIATION.

46

Ver. 4. Lanch'd on the bosom.] From hence the poem continues, in the first edition, to ver. 46.

The rest the winds dispers'd in empty air; all after, to the end of this canto, being additional.

Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gentle play,
Belinda sinil'd, and all the world was gay,
All but the Sylph—with careful thoughts opprest,
Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast.
He summons straight his denizens of air;
The lucid squadrons round the sails repair:
Soft o'er the shrouds aërial whispers breathe,
That seem'd but zephyrs to the train beneath.
Some to the Sun their insect wings unfold,
Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold;
Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight,
Their fluid bodies half dissolv'd in light.
Loose to the wind their airy garments flew,
Thin glittering textures of the filmy dew,
Dipp'd in the richest tinctures of the skies,
Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes,
While every beam new transient colours flings,
Colours that change whene'er they wave their wing
Amid the circle on the gilded mast,
Superior by the head, was Ariel plac'd;
His purple pinions opening to the Sun,

He rais'd his azure wand, and thus begun :

66

Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Demons, hear! Ye know the spheres, and various tasks assign'd By laws eternal to th' aërial kind.

Some in the fields of purest ether play,
And bask and whiten in the blaze of day;
Some guide the course of wondering orbs on high,
Or roll the planets through the boundless sky;
Some, less refin'd, beneath the Moon's pale light
Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night,
Or suck the mists in grosser air below,
Or dip their pinions in the painted bow,
Or brew fierce tempests on the wintery main,
Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain.
Others on earth o'er human race preside,
Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide;
Of these the chief the care of nations own,
And guard with arms divine the British throne,

"Our humbler province is to tend the fair,
Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;
To save the powder from too rude a gale,
Nor let th' imprison'd essences exhale;

To draw fresh colours from the vernal flowers;
To steal from rainbows, ere they drop in showers,
A brighter wash; to curl their waving hairs,
Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs;
Nay oft, in dreams, invention we bestow,
To change a flounce, or add a furbelow.

"This day, black omens threat the brightest fair
That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care:
Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight;
But what, or where, the Fates have wrapp'd in night
Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law,
Or some frail China-jar receive a flaw:

Or stain her honour, or her new brocade;
Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade ;
Or lose her heart, or necklace at a ball;

Or whether Heaven has doom'd that Shock must fall.
Haste then, ye spirits! to your charge repair:
The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care;
The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign;
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine;
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her favourite lock;
Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock.

"To fifty chosen Sylphs, of special note,
We trust th' important charge, the petticoat :
Oft have we known that seven-fold fence to fail,
Though stiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs of whale