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THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.
But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress’d,
For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,
Ver. 16. Cave of Spleen.]
Thro' me to Discontent's eternal home!
Ver. 11. For, that sad moment, &c.] All the lines from hence to the 94th verse, that describe the house of Spleen, are not in the first Edition ; instead of them followed only these,
While her rack'd Soul repose and peace requires,
The fierce Thalestris fans the rising fires. And continued at the 94th verse of this Canto.
Ver. 1.] “ At regina gravi," &c.— Virg. Æneid. iv.
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, 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,
Thro' me, to those who sadden'd human life,
All ye who enter, every hope forego! It is thus Mr. Hayley, in allusion to Dante's striking inscription over hell-gate, begins his description of the dwelling of Spleen. She and her attendants are afterwards painted with force and spirit in the next 200 verses, and more. His mild and engaging Serena, her prim and sour aunt Penelope, and the good old Squire, are admirable portraits.
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 hermits' 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 ev'ry 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-pye talks ;
Ver. 41. Dreadful, as hermits' dreams in kaunted shades,
Or bright, as visions of expiring muids.] The Poet by this comparison would insinuate, that the temptations of the mortified Recluses in the Church of Rome, and the extatic visions of their female Saints, were as much the effects of hypochondriac disorders, the Spleen, or, what was then the fashionable word, the Vapours, as any of the imaginary transformations he speaks of afterwards.
Ver. 51. Homer's Tripod walks ;] See Hom. Iliad. xviii. of Vulcan's walking Tripods.
P. Ver. 52. and there a Goose-pye talks ;] Alludes to a real fact, a Lady of distinction imagined herself in this condition. P.
Men prove with child, as pow'rful fancy works,
Safe past the Gnome through this fantastic band,
Ver. 53. Men prode with child,] Van Swieten, in his Commentaries on Boerhaave, relates, that he knew a man who had studied till he fancied his legs to be of glass; his maid bringing wood to his fire, threw it carelessly down; our sage was angry, and terrified for his legs of glass; the girl, out of patience with his megrims, gave him a blow with a log on the parts affected; he instantly started
and from that moment recovered the use of his glass legs!.
Or e'er to costive lap-dog gave disease, 75
The Goddess with a discontented air
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, (While Hampton's echoes, Wretched maid! re
ply'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 straind your tender head ? And bravely bore the double loads of lead ? Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair, While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare !