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Or caus'd suspicion when no soul was rude,
The Goddess with a discontented air Seems to reject him, tho' the grants his pray'r. 80 A wond'rous Bag with both her hands she binds, Like that where once Ulyffes held the winds; There she collects the force of female lungs, Sighs, sobs, and passions, 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.
go Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent, And all the Furies iffu'd at the vent. Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.
94 O wretched maid! she spread her hands, and cry'd, (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? 99 For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around?
For this with fillets strain's your tender head?
She said ; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, And bids her beau demand the precious hairs :
(Sir NOTES. Ver. 121. Sir Plume repairs,] Sir George Brown. He was the only one of the Party who took the thing feriously. He was angry that the Poet fhould make him talk nothing but nonsense ; and in truth one could not well blame him. WARBURTON.
An engraving of Sir Plume, with feven other figures, by Hogarth, was executed on the lid of a gold snuff box, and presented to one of the parties concerned; the original impression of a print of it was fold, at Mr. Gulfon's fale, for thirty-three pounds.
(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! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil · Plague on't! 'tis past a Jeft-nay prithee, pox! “Give her the hair”-he spoke, and rapp'd his box.
It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) 131 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 Clip'd from the lovely head where late it grew) That while
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 fo; He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow.
He breaks the Vial whence the forrows flow. ] These two lines are additional; and assign the cause of the different operation on the Passions of the two Ladies. The poem went on before without that distinction, as without any
Machinery, to the end of the Canto.
IMITATIONS. VER. 133. But by this Lock,] In allusion to Achilles's oath in Homer, il. i.
Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears,
For ever curs'd be this detested day, :