And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards.

The Rape of the Lock: Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive,
And love of ombre, after death survive.
Canto 1 For when the fair in all their pride expire,
To their first elements their souls retire:
BY  A L E X A N D E R POPE
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
Mount up, and take a Salamander's name.
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs,
Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
And sip with Nymphs, their elemental tea.
I sing—This verse to Caryl, Muse! is due:
The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome,
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view:
In search of mischief still on earth to roam.
Slight is the subject, but not so the praise,
The light coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair,
If she inspire, and he approve my lays.
And sport and flutter in the fields of air.
       Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel
       Know further yet; whoever fair and chaste
A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle?
Rejects mankind, is by some sylph embrac'd:
O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd,
For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.
In tasks so bold, can little men engage,
What guards the purity of melting maids,
And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage?
In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades,
Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark,
       Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray,
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,
And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day;
When kind occasion prompts their warm desires,
Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake,
When music softens, and when dancing fires?
And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake:
'Tis but their sylph, the wise celestials know,
Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground,
Though honour is the word with men below.
And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound.
Belinda still her downy pillow press'd,
       Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face,
Her guardian sylph prolong'd the balmy rest:
For life predestin'd to the gnomes' embrace.
'Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed
These swell their prospects and exalt their pride,
The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head;
When offers are disdain'd, and love denied:
A youth more glitt'ring than a birthnight beau,
Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain,
(That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to glow)
While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train,
Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay,
And garters, stars, and coronets appear,
And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say.
And in soft sounds 'Your Grace' salutes their ear.
'Tis these that early taint the female soul,
       "Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care
Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll,
Of thousand bright inhabitants of air!
Teach infant cheeks a bidden blush to know,
If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought,
And little hearts to flutter at a beau.
Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught,
Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen,
       Oft, when the world imagine women stray,
The silver token, and the circled green,
The Sylphs through mystic mazes guide their way,
Or virgins visited by angel pow'rs,
Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue,
With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs,
And old impertinence expel by new.
Hear and believe! thy own importance know,
What tender maid but must a victim fall
Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
To one man's treat, but for another's ball?
Some secret truths from learned pride conceal'd,
When Florio speaks, what virgin could withstand,
To maids alone and children are reveal'd:
If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand?
What tho' no credit doubting wits may give?
With varying vanities, from ev'ry part,
The fair and innocent shall still believe.
They shift the moving toyshop of their heart;
Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly,
Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive,
The light militia of the lower sky;
Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive.
These, though unseen, are ever on the wing,
This erring mortals levity may call,
Hang o'er the box, and hover round the Ring.
Oh blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it all.
Think what an equipage thou hast in air,
And view with scorn two pages and a chair.
       Of these am I, who thy protection claim,
As now your own, our beings were of old,
A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name.
And once inclos'd in woman's beauteous mould;
Late, as I rang'd the crystal wilds of air,
Thence, by a soft transition, we repair
In the clear mirror of thy ruling star
From earthly vehicles to these of air.
I saw, alas! some dread event impend,
Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled,
Ere to the main this morning sun descend,
That all her vanities at once are dead;
But Heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where:
Succeeding vanities she still regards,
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!"

       He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long,
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 ardors 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 pow'rs.
A heav'nly 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 off'rings of the world appear;
From each she nicely culls with curious toil,
And decks the goddess with the glitt'ring 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 ev'ry 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.