WHAT dire Offence from Am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Quarrels rise from Trivial Things, I sing -- This Verse to @C---l@, 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! cou'd compel A well-bred @Lord@ t'assault a gentle @Belle?@ Oh say what stranger Cause, yet unexplor'd, Cou'd make a gentle @Belle@ reject a @Lord@? And dwells such Rage in @softest Bosoms@ then? And lodge such daring Souls in @Little Men?@ @Sol@ thro' white Curtains did his Beams display, And op'd those Eyes which brighter shine than they; @Shock@ just had giv'n himself the rowzing 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. @Belinda@ rose, and 'midst attending Dames Launch'd on the Bosom of the Silver @Thames@: A train of well-drest Youths around her shone, And ev'ry 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 Errors fall, Look on her Face, and you'll forgive 'em 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 her smooth Iv'ry Neck. Love in these Labyrinths his Slaves detains, And mighty Hearts are held in slender Chains. With hairy Sprindges 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' Adventrous @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, e're @Phoebus@ rose, he had implor'd Propitious Heav'n, and ev'ry Pow'r ador'd, But chiefly @Love@---to @Love@ an Altar built, Of twelve vast @French@ Romances, neatly gilt. There lay the Sword-knot @Sylvia@'s Hands had sown, With @Flavia's@ Busk that oft had rapp'd his own: A Fan, a Garter, half a Pair of Gloves; And all the Trophies of his former Loves. With tender @Billet-doux@ he lights the Pyre, And breaths three am'rous Sighs to raise the Fire. Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent Eyes Soon to obtain, and long possess the Prize: The Pow'rs gave Ear, and granted half his Pray'r, The rest, the Winds dispers'd in empty Air. Close by those Meads for ever crown'd with Flow'rs, Where @Thames@ with Pride surveys his rising Tow'rs, There stands a Structure of Majestick Frame, Which from the neighb'ring @Hampton@ takes its Name. Here @Britain@'s Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home; Here Thou, great @Anna@! whom three Realms obey, Dost sometimes Counsel take--and sometimes @Tea@. Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort, To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court; In various Talk the chearful hours they past, Of, who was @Bitt@, or who @Capotted@ last: This speaks the Glory of the @British Queen@, And that describes a charming @Indian Screen@; A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes; At ev'ry Word a Reputation dies. @Snuff@, or the @Fan@, supply each Pause of Chatt, With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. Now, when declining from the Noon of Day, The Sun obliquely shoots his burning Ray; The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign, And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine; The Merchant from th'@Exchange@ returns in Peace, And the long Labours of the @Toilette@ cease ---- The Board's with Cups and Spoons,alternate, crown'd, The Berries crackle, and the Mill turns round; On shining Altars of @Japan@ they raise The silver Lamp, and fiery Spirits blaze; From silver Spouts the grateful Liquors glide, And @China@'s Earth receives the smoking Tyde: At once they gratify their Smell and Taste, While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repast. @Coffee@, (which makes the Politician wise, And see thro' all things with his half shut Eyes) Sent up in Vapours to the @Baron@'s Brain New Stratagems, the radiant Locke to gain. Ah cease rash Youth! desist e're 'tis too late, Fear the just Gods, and think of @Scylla@'s Fate! Chang'd to a Bird, and sent to flitt in Air, She dearly pays for @Nisus'@ injur'd Hair! But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Mind, How soon fit Instruments of Ill they find? Just then, @Clarissa@ drew with tempting Grace A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case; So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight, Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight. He takes the Gift with rev'rence, and extends The little Engine on his Finger's Ends, This just behind @Belinda@'s Neck he spread, As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head: He first expands the glitt'ring @Forfex@ wide, T'inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide; One fatal stroke the sacred Hair does sever From the fair Head, for ever, and for ever! The living Fires come flashing from her Eyes, And Screams of Horror rend th' affrighted Skies. Not louder Shrieks by Dames to Heav'n are cast, When Husbands die, or @Lap-dogs@ breath their last, Or when rich @China@ Vessels fal'n from high, In glittring Dust and painted Fragments lie! Let Wreaths of Triumph now my Temples twine, (The Victor cry'd) the glorious Prize is mine! While Fish in Streams, or Birds delight in Air, Or in a Coach and Six the @British@ Fair, As long as @Atalantis@ shall be read, Or the small Pillow grace a Lady's Bed, While @Visits@ shall be paid on solemn Days, When numerous Wax-lights in bright Order blaze, While Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations give, So long my Honour, Name, and Praise shall live! What Time wou'd spare, from Steel receives its date, And Monuments, like Men, submit to Fate! Steel did the Labour of the Gods destroy, And strike to Dust th' Imperial Tow'rs of @Troy@; Steel cou'd the Works of mortal Pride confound, And hew Triumphal Arches to the Ground. What Wonder then, fair Nymph! thy Hairs shou'd feel The conqu'ring Force of unresisted Steel? BUT anxious Cares the pensive Nymph opprest, And secret Passions labour'd in her Breast. Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz'd alive, Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive, Not ardent Lover robb'd of all his Bliss, Not ancient Lady when refus'd a Kiss, Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, Not @Cynthia@ when her @Manteau@'s pinn'd awry, E'er felt such Rage, Resentment and Despair, As Thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair. While her rackt Soul Repose and Peace requires, The fierce @Thalestris@ fans the rising Fire. O wretched Maid (she spread her hands, and cry'd, And @Hampton@'s Ecchoes, wretched Maid! reply'd) Was it for this you took such constant Care @Combs, Bodkins, Leads, Pomatums@, to prepare; For this your Locks in Paper-Durance bound, For this with tort'ring Irons wreath'd around? Oh had the Youth but been content to seize Hairs less in sight - or any Hairs but these! Gods! shall the Ravisher display this Hair, While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare! @Honour@ forbid! at whose unrival'd Shrine Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign. Methinks already I your Tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded Toast, And all your Honour in a Whisper lost! How shall I, then, your helpless Fame defend? 'Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend! And shall this Prize, th' inestimable Prize, Expos'd thro' @Crystal@ to the gazing Eyes, And heighten'd by the @Diamond@'s circling Rays, On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze? Sooner shall Grass in @Hide@-Park @Circus@ grow, And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of @Bow@; Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to @Chaos@ fall, Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! She said; then raging to @Sir Plume@ repairs, And bids her @Beau@ demand the precious Hairs: (@Sir Plume@, of @Amber Snuff-box@ justly vain, And the nice Conduct of a @clouded Cane@) With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face, He first the Snuff-box open'd, then the Case, And thus broke out--- "My Lord, why, what the Devil? "Z---ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil! "Plague on't! 'tis past a Jest---nay prithee, Pox! "Give her the Hair---he spoke, and rapp'd his Box. It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) Who speaks so well shou'd ever speak in vain. But by this Locke, this sacred Locke I swear. (Which never more shall join its parted Hair, Which never more its Honours shall renew, Clipt from the lovely Head where once it grew) That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air, This Hand, which won it, shall for ever wear. He spoke, and speaking in proud Triumph spread The long-contended Honours of her Head. But see! the @Nymph@ in Sorrow's Pomp appears, Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears; Now livid pale her Cheeks, now glowing red; 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 fav'rite Curl away! Happy! ah ten times happy, had I been, If @Hampton-Court@ these Eyes had never seen! 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; Where the gilt @Chariot@ never mark'd the way, Where none learn @Ombre@, none e'er taste @Bohea@! There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye, Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die. What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome? O had I stay'd, and said my Pray'rs at home! 'Twas this, the Morning @Omens@ did foretel; Thrice from my trembling hand the @Patch-box@ fell; The tott'ring @China@ shook without a Wind, Nay, @Poll@ sate mute, and @Shock@ was @most Unkind@! See the poor Remnants of this slighted Hair! My hands shall rend what ev'n thy own did spare. This, in two sable Ringlets taught to break, Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck. The Sister-Locke now sits uncouth, alone, And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own; Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands; And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands. 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 fixt the @Trojan@ cou'd remain, While @Anna@ begg'd and @Dido@ rag'd in vain. To Arms, to Arms! the bold @Thalestris@ cries, And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies. All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack; Fans clap, Silks russle, and tough Whalebones crack; Heroes and Heroins 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; '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! While thro' the Press enrag'd @Thalestries@ flies, And scatters Deaths 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 @Meander@'s flow'ry Margin lies Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies. As bold Sir @Plume@ had drawn @Clarissa@ down, @Chloe@ stept 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 Mens 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 indu'd, 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; Sudden, with starting Tears each Eye o'erflows, And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose. Now meet thy Fate, th' incens'd Virago cry'd, And drew a deadly @Bodkin@ from her Side. Boast not my Fall (he cry'd) insulting Foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low. Nor think, to die dejects my lofty Mind; All that I dread, is leaving you behind! Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And still burn on, in @Cupid@'s Flames, @Alive@. @Restore the Locke@! she cries; and all around @Restore the Locke@! 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 Locke, obtain'd with Guilt, and kept with Pain, 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. There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vases, And Beau's in @Snuff-boxes@ and @Tweezer-Cases@. There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms are found, And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound; The Courtiers Promises, and Sick Man's Pray'rs, The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs, Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea; Dry'd Butterflies, and Tomes of Casuistry. But trust the Muse---she saw it upward rise, Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetic Eyes: (Thus @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, The Skies bespangling with dishevel'd Light. This the @Beau-monde@ shall from the @Mall@ survey, As thro' the Moon-light shade they nightly stray, And hail with Musick its propitious Ray. This @Partridge@ soon shall view in cloudless Skies, When next he looks thro' @Galilaeo@'s Eyes; And hence th' Egregious Wizard shall foredoom The Fate of @Louis@, and the Fall of @Rome@. Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the 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 Locke you lost. For, after all the Murders of your Eye, When, after Millions slain, your self shall die; When those fair Suns shall sett, as sett they must, And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust; @This Locke@, the Muse shall consecrate to Fame, And mid'st the Stars inscribe @Belinda@'s Name! @FINIS@.