Dow'S Gown: Her Infant Grandame'S Whistle Next It Grew, The Bells She Gingled, 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 Cry'D) 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 Behind!. 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 Othello In So Loud A Strain Roar'D For The Handkerchief That Caus'D His Pain. But See How Oft Ambitious Aims Are Cross'D, And 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 Heroe'S Wits Are Kept In Pondrous Vases, And Beau'S In Snuff-Boxes And Tweezer-Cases. There Broken Vows, And Death-Bed Alms Are Found, And Lovers Hearts With Ends Of Riband Bound; The Courtiers Promises, And Sick Man'S Pray'Rs, The Smiles Of Harlots, And The Tears Of Heirs, . Cages For Gnats, And Chains To Yoak A Flea; Dry'D Butterflies, And Tomes Of Casuistry. But Trust The Muse---She Saw It Upward Rise, Tho' 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 Thro' Liquid Air, And Drew Behind A Radiant Trail Of Hair. Not Berenice'S Locks First Rose So Bright, The Heav'Ns Bespangling With Dishevel'D Light. . The Sylphs Behold It Kindling As It Flies, And Pleas'D Pursue Its Progress Thro' The Skies. This The Beau-Monde Shall From The Mall Survey, And Hail With Musick 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 Thro' Galilaeo'S Eyes; And Hence Th' Egregious Wizard Shall Foredoom The Fate Of Louis, And The Fall Of Rome. . Then Cease, Bright Nymph! To Mourn The 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, Your Self Shall Die; When Those Fair Suns Shall Sett, As Sett They Must, And All Those Tresses Shall Be Laid In Dust; This Lock, The Muse Shall Consecrate To Fame, And Mid'St The Stars Inscribe Belinda'S Name! .