Название: Poetry
Автор: Alexander Pope
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066395889
isbn:
VARIATIONS.
VER. 624. Between this and ver. 625:—
In vain you shrug, and sweat, and strive to fly;
These know no manners but of poetry.
They'll stop a hungry chaplain in his grace,
To treat of unities of time and place.
Between ver. 647 and 648, were the following lines, afterwards
suppressed by the author:—
That bold Columbus of the realms of wit,
Whose first discovery's not exceeded yet.
Led by the light of the Maeonian star,
He steer'd securely, and discover'd far.
He, when all Nature was subdued before,
Like his great pupil, sigh'd, and long'd for more:
Fancy's wild regions yet unvanquish'd lay,
A boundless empire, and that own'd no sway.
Poets, &c.
Between ver. 691 and 692, the author omitted these two:—
Vain wits and critics were no more allow'd,
When none but saints had licence to be proud.
THE RAPE OF THE LOCK:
AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXII.
'Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.'
MART.
TO MRS ARABELLA FERMOR.
Madam—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-humour 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 offered to a bookseller, you had the good-nature for my sake to consent to the publication of one more correct: this I was forced 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 'tis 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 called '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. According to these gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by spirits, which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes, or Demons 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 cantos, all the passages 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 should pass through the world half so uncensured 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 amorous causes springs,
What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
I sing—This verse to Caryll,28 Muse! is due: This, even Belinda may vouchsafe to view: 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? 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, 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 press'd, Her guardian Sylph29 prolong'd the balmy rest: 20 'Twas he had summon'd СКАЧАТЬ