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In three seal-rings; which after, melted down,
Boast not my fall (he cry'd) insulting foe!
Restore the Lock! The cries; and all around
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. There Heros' wits are kept in pond'rous vases, 115 And Beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. There broken vows, and death-bed alms are
found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound, The courtier's promises, and fick men's pray’rs, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 120 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 : (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, To Proculus alone confefs'd in view) 126 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 heav'ns bespangling with disheveld light. 130
VÆR. 114. Since all things loft] Vid. Ariosto, Canto xxxiv. P.
VER, 128. Flammiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem Stella micat.
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
This the Beau monde shall from the Mall sur
vey, And hail with music its propitious ray; This the blest Lover shall for Venus take,
135 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake ; This Partridge foon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks thro' Galilæo's eyes; And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 140 Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn thy ra
vish'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 Lock you lost. For after all the murders of your eye, 145 When, after millions slain, yourself shall die s
Ver. 131. The Sylphs behold] These two lines added for the same reason, to keep in view the Machinery of the Poem. P.
VER. 137. This Partridge foon] John Partridge was a ridiculous Star-gazer, who in his Almanacks every year never faild to predict the downfal of the Pope, and the King of France, then at war with the English. P.
When those fair suns shall set, as set they must,
E L E GY
To the MEMORY of an
HAT beck’ning ghost, along the moon
light shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 'Tis The !---but why that bleeding bosom gor’d' Why dimly gleams the visionary sword? Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell, 5 Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a Lover's or a Roman's part ? Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think, or bravely die? 10 Why bade
ye else, ye Pow'rs ! her soul aspire Above the vulgar flight of low desire ?
NOTES. * See the Duke of Buckingham's verses to a Lady designing to retire into a Monastery, compared with Mr. Pope's Letters to several Ladies, p. 206. quarto Edition. She seems to be the same person whose unfortunate death is the subject of this poem. P.