It will be in vain to deny that I have some regard for this piece, since I dedicate it to you. Yet you may bear me witness it was intended only to divert a few young ladies, who have good sense and good humor enough to laugh not only at their sex's little unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it was communicated with the air of a secret, it soon found its way into the world. An imperfect copy having been offer'd to a bookseller, you had the good-nature for my sake to consent to the publication of one more correct: This I was forc'd to, before I had executed half my design, for the Machinery was entirely wanting to complete it. The Machinery, Madam, is a term invented by the critics to signify that part which the Deities, Angels, or Demons are made to act in a poem: for the ancient poets are in one respect like many modern ladies: let an action be never so trivial in itself, they always make it appear of the utmost importance. These Machines I determined to raise, on a very new and odd foundation, the Rosicrucian doctrine of Spirits. I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard words before a lady; but 't is so much the concern of a poet to have his works understood, and particularly by your sex, that you must give me leave to explain two or three difficult terms. The Rosicrucians are a people I must bring you acquainted with. The best account I know of them is in a French book call'd Le Comte de Gabalis, which both in its title and size is so like a novel that many of the fair sex have read it for one by mistake. Accord ing to these gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by Spirits, which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes, or dæmons of Earth, delight in mischief; but the Sylphs, whose habitation is in the air, are the best conditioned creatures imaginable. For they say, any mortals may enjoy the most intimate familiarities with these gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true adepts, an inviolate preservation of chastity. As to the following Canto's, all the personages of them are as fabulous as the Vision at the beginning, or the Transformation at the end (except the loss of your hair, which I always mention with reverence). The human persons are as fictitious as the airy ones; and the character of Belinda, as it is now managed, resembles you in nothing but in beauty. If this poem had as many graces as there are in your person or in your mind, yet I could never hope it would pass through the world half so uncensur'd as you have done. But let its fortune be what it will, mine is happy enough to have given me this occasion of assuring you that I am, with the truest esteem, Madam, Your most obedient, humble servant, A. POPE. CANTO I. WHAT dire offence from am'rous causes springs, 3. Before Pope's successes in verse admitted him to the best society in England, he had moved in a small circle of Roman Catholic families in the immediate neighborhood of Windsor. To one of these families belonged Miss Arabella Fermor, the Belinda of The Rape of the Lock; to another, Lord Petre, called in the poem simply the Baron, the hero - or villain-of the story; and to a third belonged John Caryl. Lord Petre really stole a lock of Miss Fermor's hair, and some unpleasantness arose between the families in consequence. Caryl suggested to Pope that a humorous treatment of the incident in verse might help matters. 5 Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, If she inspire, and he approve my lays. Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle? O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd, 10 Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? In tasks so bold, can little men engage, And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage? Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray, And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day; 15 Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, And sleepless lovers just at twelve awake; Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground, And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound. Belinda still her downy pillow prest, 20 Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest: 'T was he had summon'd to her silent bed The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head; A youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau, (That ev'n in slumber caused her cheek to glow) 25 Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay, And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say: "Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air! If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought, 30 Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen, The silver token, and the circled green, Or virgins visited by Angel-pow'rs, With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs 23. Birth-night Beau, a fine gentleman such as might be seen at the state ball given on the anniversary of the royal birthday. - HALES. Hear and believe! thy own importance know, Know, then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly, These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing, Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. 44. Box, at the opera. Ring, a "circus " or circular promeaade, like that in Hyde Park. The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome, "Know further yet: whoever fair and chaste Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embrac'd; For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease 70 Assume what sexes and what shapes they please. What guards the purity of melting maids, In courtly balls and midnight masquerades, Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark, The glance by day, the whisper in the dark, 75 When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, When music softens, and when dancing fires? 'Tis but their Sylph, the wise celestials know, Tho' honor is the word with men below. Some nymphs there are too conscious of their face, 80 For life predestin'd to the Gnome's embrace. These swell their prospects and exalt their pride, When offers are disdain'd, and love deny'd; Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain, While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train, 85 And garters, stars, and coronets appear, And in soft sounds, Your Grace' salutes their ear. 'Tis these that early taint the female soul, Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll, Teach infant-cheeks a hidden blush to know, 90 And little hearts to flutter at a Beau. "Oft, when the world imagine women stray, The Sylphs thro' mystic mazes guide their way; Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue, And old impertinence expel by new. |