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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 hands 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 sheers demands,

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And tempts, once more, thy sacrilegious hands.
Oh hadst thou, cruel! been content to seize
Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these!

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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?

VARIATIONS.

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Ver. 7. Then grave Clarissa, &c.] A new Character introduced in the subsequent Editions, to open more clearly the Moral of the Poem, in a parody of the speech of Sarpedon to Glaucus in Homer.-P.

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 9. Say, why are Beauties, &c.] Homer.

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Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus' streams 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 feasts enhanc'd with music's sprightly sound;

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

Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?

Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd Beaus, Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows?

How vain are all these glories, all our pains,

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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,

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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.

But since, alas! frail beauty must decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a man, must die a maid;

NOTES.

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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. -Warton.

IMITATIONS.

Why on those shores are we with joy survey'd,
Admir'd as heroes, and as Gods obey'd;

Unless great acts superior 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 transcending our commands,
Such, they may cry, deserve the sov'reign state,
Whom those that envy, dare not imitate.
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no less the fearful than the brave,
For lust of fame I should not vainly dare
In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war.
But since, alas! ignoble age must come,
Disease, 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.”— Warburton.

This passage was the first specimen our author gave of his translation of Homer; and it appeared first in the sixth volume of Dryden's Miscellanies. -Warton.

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What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still, whate'er we lose?
And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
So spoke the Dame, but no applause ensu'd;
Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.

All side in parties, and begin th' attack;

Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack;
Heroes' and Heroines' shouts confus'dly rise,
And base and treble voices strike the skies.
No common weapons in their hands are found,
Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,
And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage;

NOTES.

Ver. 45. So when bold Homer] Homer, Il. xx.—P.

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The ridicule is most artfully heightened by introducing one of the most sublime passages in Homer :

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̓Αμφὶ δ ̓ ἐσάλπιγξεν μέγας οὐρανὸς, οὔλυμπός τε,
*Εδδεισεν δ' ὑπένερθεν ἄναξ ἐνέρων ̓Αϊδωνεύς·
Δείσας δ ̓ ἐκ θρόνου ἆλτο καὶ ἴαχε, μὴ οἱ ἔπειτα
Γαῖαν ἀναῤῥήξειε Ποσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων,

Οἴκια δὲ θνητοῖσι καὶ ἀθανάτοισι φανείη,
Σμερδαλές, ευρώεντα, τά τε στυγέουσι θεοί περ

Well might Longinus exclaim, "Do you see, O my friend, how the earth bursts asunder to its centre, Tartarus itself is laid open and naked, all things mortal and immortal combat together, and share the danger of this tremendous conflict?" [In

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 37. To arms, to arms!] From hence the first edition goes on to the conclusion, except a very few short insertions added, to keep the Machinery in view to the end of the poem.-P.

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 35. So spoke the Dame,] It is a verse frequently repeated in Homer after any speech,

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So spoke and all the Heroes applauded."-P.

[* Dr. Warton quotes this passage directly from Longinus, who gives it as it appears in the note above the first line, however, is taken from Il. Φ. 388, with the substitution of οὔλυμπός τε for ἄτε δὲ Ζεύς, and the remaining five from Il. Y. 61-65.]

VOL. II.

Ff

'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;

And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:

Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
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:
Propp'd on their bodkin spears, the Sprites survey 55
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.

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"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.

NOTES.

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In none of his many imitations has Virgil shown his inferiority to Homer so much as in this passage:

"Non secus ac si qua penitus vi terra dehiscens
Infernas reseret sedes, et regna recludat

Pallida, Dîs invisa; superque immane barathrum
Cernatur, trepidentque immisso lumine Manes."

Eneid, viii. v. 243.

For not to mention that what is part of the action in Homer, is only a simile in Virgil, how tame is "superque immane barathrum" (even though a magnificent image) to

Δείσας δ ̓ ἐκ θρόνου ἆλτο καὶ ἴαχε

How or where has terror ever been so strongly painted as by this circumstance of Pluto himself, suddenly leaping from his throne and shrieking aloud?-Warton.

Ver. 55. Propp'd on their] Like the heroes in Homer, when they are spectators of a combat.-Warton.

Ver. 64. "Those eyes] It was the common cant of all the wits and

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 53. Triumphant Umbriel] These four lines added, for the reason before mentioned.-P.

Added with great dexterity, beauty, and propriety !—Warton.

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 53. Triumphant Umbriel] Minerva in like manner, during the battle of Ulysses with the Suitors in the Odyssey, perches on a beam of the roof to behold it.-P.

Ver. 64. "Those eyes are made so killing"] The words of a song in the Opera of Camilla.—P.

Thus on Mæander's flow'ry margin lies

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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.

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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 subdu'd;
Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,

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A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw,
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just,
The pungent grains of titillating dust.

NOTES.

poets of this time to depreciate and laugh at Italian Operas. See what Addison has said of them, Spectator 18. They would have been of a different opinion, if they could have read what Dr. Burney has said on this subject in his History of Music.-Warton.

Ver. 71. Now Jove, &c.] Vid. Homer, Il. viii. and Virg. Æn. xii. -P.

Ver. 74. At length the wits] This parody from Homer and Virgil is admirable. Milton improved on this fine fiction in Paradise Lost, Book iv. v. 997, by saying, that when "the Almighty weighed Satan in such scales, the mounting of his scales denoted ill success; and also by alluding artfully to the sign of Libra in the heavens.-Warton.

Ver. 84. titillating dust.] Boileau and Garth have also each of them enlivened their pieces with a mock-fight. But Boileau has laid the scene of his action in a neighbouring bookseller's shop; where the combatants encounter each other by chance. This conduct is a little inartificial; but

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 83. The Gnomes direct,] These two lines added for the above reason.-P.

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 65. Thus on Maander's flow'ry margin lies]

"Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis,

Ad vada Mæandri concinit albus olor." Ov. Ep.-P.

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