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And now, unveiled, the Toilet stands displayed; Each silver vase in mystic order laid.

First, robed in white, the Nymph intent adores,
With head uncovered, the Cosmetic Powers.
A heavenly 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.
Unnumbered 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,
Transformed to combs, the speckled and the white
Here files of pins extend their shining rows,
Puffs, powders, Patches, Bibles, billets-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, while others plait the gown: And BETTY's praised for labours not her own!

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.

CANTO II.

NOT with more glories in th' ethereal plain, The sun first rises o'er the purpled Main, Than, issuing forth, the Rival of his beams Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames. Fair Nymphs and well-dressed Youths around her shone;

But ev'ry eye was fixed 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 unfixed 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.

ΙΟ

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 forget them all!

This Nymph, to the destruction of Mankind, Nourished two Locks; which graceful hung behind In equal curls, and well conspired 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 springes we the birds betray. Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey. Fair tresses Man's imperial race insnare; And Beauty draws us with a single hair.

Th' adventurous Baron, the bright locks admired. He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired! Resolved 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, attained his ends?'

For this, ere PHOEBUS rose, he had implored
Propitious Heaven; and ev'ry Power adored!
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 rapped his own.
A fan, a garter, half a pair of gloves,
And all the trophies of his former Loves.

With tender billets-doux he lights the pyre;
And breathes 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 Powers gave ear, and granted half his prayer ; The rest, the winds dispersed in empty air!

But now secure the painted vessel glides, The sunbeams trembling on the floating tides; While melting music steals upon the sky, And softened sounds along the waters die. Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play; BELINDA smiled, and all the World was gay!

All but the Sylph! With careful thoughts opprest, Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. He summons straight his denizens of Air. The lucid squadrons round the Sails repair. Soft o'er the Shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the Train beneath. Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold, Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold. Transparent Forms, too fine for mortal sight, Their fluid bodies half dissolved in light.

Loose to the wind their airy garments flew,
Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew
Dipped in the richest tincture of the skies,
Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes;
While ev'ry beam new transient colours flings,
Colours that change, whene'er they wave their wings.

Amid the circle, on the gilded Mast,
Superior by the head, was ARIEL placed;
His purple pinions opening to the sun.
He raised his azure wand, and thus begun.

'Ye Sylphs and Sylphids! to your Chief give ear!
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Dæmons, hear!
Ye know the spheres and various tasks assigned,
By laws eternal, to th' aerial kind!

'Some in the fields of purest ether play; And bask and whiten in the blaze of day. Some guide the course of wand'ring orbs on high; Or roll the Planets through the boundless sky.

Some, less refined, beneath the moon's pale light Hover, and catch the Shooting Stars by night; Or suck the mists in grosser air below; Or dip their pinions in the painted Bow; Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry Main; Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain.

'Others, on Earth, o'er Human Race preside, Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide. Of these, the Chief the care of nations own; And guard, with Arms divine, the British Throne.

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