From PART II

A little learning is a dangerous thing; 15 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian

spring:

For works may have more wit than does 'em good,

As bodies perish through excess of blood. Others for language all their care express,

105

dress:

Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture

I sing. This verse to Caryl, Muse! is due; This, e'en Belinda may vouchsafe to view.

Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, 5 If she inspire, and he approve my lays.

Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel

A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle? Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplored,

Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? 10 In tasks so bold, can little men engage, And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage?

Sol through white curtains shot a timorous ray,

And oped those eyes that must eclipse the day.

Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake,

15

mould;

50

Thence, by a soft transition, we repair
From earthly vehicles to these of air.
Think not, when woman's transient
breath is fled,

That all her vanities at once are dead;
Succeeding vanities she still regards,
And though she plays no more, o'erlooks
the cards.

Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, 55
And love of ombre, after death survive.
For when the fair in all their pride expire,
To their first elements their souls retire:
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
Mount up, and take a salamander's name.
Soft yielding minds to water glide away, 61
And sip, with nymphs, their elemental

Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride. Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here

The various offerings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls with curious toil, 131 And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil.

This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, 135 Transformed to combs, the speckled, and the white.

Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billetsdoux.

Now awful beauty puts on all its arms; The fair each moment rises in her charms, Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face;

1 the sea.

142