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lirik lagu alexander pope - nigel planer - from the rape of the lock

see, fierce belinda on the baron flies
with more than usual lightning in her eyes
nor fear’d the chief th’ unequal fight to try
who sought no more than on his foe to die
but this bold lord with manly strength endu’d
she with one finger and a thumb subdu’d:
just where the breath of life his nostrils drew
a charge of snuff the wily virgin threw;
the gnomes direct, to ev’ry atom just
the pungent grains of titillating dust
sudden, with starting tears each eye o’erflows
and thе high dome re~echoеs to his nose

“now meet thy fate”, incens’d belinda cried
and drew a deadly bodkin from her side
(the same, his ancient personage to deck
her great great grandsire wore about his neck
in three seal~rings; which after, melted down
form’d a vast buckle for his widow’s gown:
her infant grandame’s whistle next it grew
the bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;
then in a bodkin grac’d her mother’s hairs
which long she wore, and now belinda wears.)

“boast not my fall,” he cried, “insulting foe!
thou by some other shalt be laid as low
nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind;
all that i dread is leaving you benind!
rather than so, ah let me still survive
and burn in cupid’s flames—but burn alive.”
“restore the lock!” she cries; and all around
“restore the lock!” the vaulted roofs rebound
not fierce oth~llo in so loud a strain
roar’d for the handkerchief that caus’d his pain
but see how oft ambitious aims are cross’d
the chiefs contend ’till all the prize is lost!
the lock, obtain’d with guilt, and kept with pain
in ev’ry place is sought, but sought in vain:
with such a prize no mortal must be blest
so heav’n decrees! with heav’n who can contest?

some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere
since all things lost on earth are treasur’d there
there hero’s wits are kept in pond’rous vases
and beaux’ in snuff boxes and tweezercases
there broken vows and deathbed alms are found
and lovers’ hearts with ends of riband bound;
the courtier’s promises, and sick man’s prayers
the smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs
cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea
dried b~tterflies, and tomes of casuistry

but trust the muse—she saw it upward rise
though mark’d by none but quick, poetic eyes:
(so rome’s great founder to the heav’ns withdrew
to proculus alone confess’d in view)
a sudden star, it shot through liquid air
and drew behind a radiant trail of hair
not berenice’s locks first rose so bright
the heav’ns bespangling with dishevell’d light
the sylphs behold it kindling as it flies
and pleas’d pursue its progress through the skies
this the beau monde shall from the mall survey
and hail with music its propitious ray
this the blest lover shall for venus take
and send up vows from rosamonda’s lake
this partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies
when next he looks through galileo’s eyes;
and hence th’ egregious wizard shall foredoom
the fate of louis, and the fall of rome

then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravish’d hair
which adds new glory to the shining sphere!
not all the tresses that fair head can boast
shall draw such envy as the lock you lost
for, after all the murders of your eye
when, after millions slain, yourself shall die:
when those fair suns shall set, as set they must
and all those tresses shall be laid in dust
this lock, the muse shall consecrate to fame
and ‘midst the stars inscribe belinda’s name

- lirik lagu alexander pope

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