Part 4 (1/2)

Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome, And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome.

No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. 20 Here in a grotto, shelter'd close from air, And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare, She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.

Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place, 25 But diff'ring far in figure and in face.

Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid, Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd; With store of pray'rs, for mornings, nights, and noons, Her hand is fill'd; her bosom with lampoons. 30

There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside.

Faints into airs, and languishes with pride, On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, 35 Wrapt in a gown, for sickness, and for show.

The fair ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease.

A constant Vapour o'er the palace flies; Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise; 40 Dreadful, as hermit's dreams in haunted shades, Or bright, as visions of expiring maids.

Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires: Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, 45 And crystal domes, and angels in machines.

Unnumber'd throngs on every side are seen, Of bodies chang'd to various forms by Spleen.

Here living Tea-pots stand, one arm held out, One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: 50 A Pipkin there, like Homer's Tripod walks; Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie talks; Men prove with child, as pow'rful fancy works, And maids turn'd bottles, call aloud for corks.

Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastic band, 55 A branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand.

Then thus address'd the pow'r: ”Hail, wayward Queen!

Who rule the s.e.x to fifty from fifteen: Parent of vapours and of female wit, Who give th' hysteric, or poetic fit, 60 On various tempers act by various ways, Make some take physic, others scribble plays; Who cause the proud their visits to delay, And send the G.o.dly in a pet to pray.

A nymph there is, that all thy pow'r disdains, 65 And thousands more in equal mirth maintains.

But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace, Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, Like Citron-waters matrons cheeks inflame, Or change complexions at a losing game; 70 If e'er with airy horns I planted heads, Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds, Or caus'd suspicion when no soul was rude, Or discompos'd the head-dress of a Prude, Or e'er to costive lap-dog gave disease, 75 Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease: Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin, That single act gives half the world the spleen.”

The G.o.ddess with a discontented air Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his pray'r. 80 A wond'rous Bag with both her hands she binds, Like that where once Ulysses held the winds; There she collects the force of female lungs, Sighs, sobs, and pa.s.sions, and the war of tongues.

A Vial next she fills with fainting fears, 85 Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears.

The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away, Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day.

Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found, Her eyes dejected and her hair unbound. 90 Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent, And all the Furies issu'd at the vent.

Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.

”O wretched maid!” she spread her hands, and cry'd, 95 (While Hampton's echoes, ”Wretched maid!” reply'd) ”Was it for this you took such constant care The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare?

For this your locks in paper durance bound, For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around? 100 For this with fillets strain'd your tender head, And bravely bore the double loads of lead?

G.o.ds! shall the ravisher display your hair, While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare!

Honour forbid! at whose unrivall'd shrine 105 Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our s.e.x 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! 110 How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend?

'T will 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, 115 On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?

Sooner shall gra.s.s in Hyde-park Circus grow, And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; Sooner let earth, air, sea, to Chaos fall, Men, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!” 120

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, 125 He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case, And thus broke out--”My Lord, why, what the devil?

”Z--ds! d.a.m.n the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!

Plague on't!'t is past a jest--nay prithee, pox!

Give her the hair”--he spoke, and rapp'd his box. 130

”It grieves me much” (reply'd the Peer again) ”Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain.

But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear, (Which never more shall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours shall renew, 135 Clipp'd from the lovely head where late 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. 140

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not so; He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow.

Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, Her eyes half-languis.h.i.+ng, half-drown'd in tears; On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping head, 145 Which, with a sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said.