The machinery, Madam, is a term invented by the critics, to fignify that part which the deities, angels, or demons, are made to act in a poem: For the ancient poets are in one refpect like many modern Ladies; let an action be never fo trivial in it felf, they al ways make it appear of the utmost importance. Thefe machines I determined to raife on a very new and odd foundation, the Roficrufian doctrine of Spirits.

I know how disagreeable it is to make ufe of hard words before a Lady; but 'tis fo much the concern of a poet to have his works understood, and particularly by your fex, that you must give me leave to explain two or three difficult terms.

The Roficrufians are a people I must bring you acquainted with. The best account I know of them is in a French book call'd Le Comte de Gabalis, which both in its title and fize is fo like a novel, that many of the fair fex have

read

1

read it for one by mistake. According to thefe gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by Spirits, which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The Gnomes, or Dæmons of earth, delight in mifchief; but the Sylphs, whofe habitation is in the air, are the best condition'd creatures imaginable. For they fay, any mortals may enjoy the most intimate familiarities with these gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true adepts, an inviolate prefervation of chaftity.

As to the following Cauto's, all the pallages of them are as fabulous, as the vifion at the beginning, or the transformation at the end; (except the lofs of your hair, which I always name with reverence.) The human perfons are as fictitious as the airy ones; and the character of Belinda, as it is now manag'd, refembles you in nothing but in beauty.

If this poem had as many graces as there are in your perfon, or in your mind, yet I could never hope it should pass thro' the world half fo uncenfured as you have done. But let its fortune be what it will, mine is happy enough, to have given me this occafion of affuring you that I am, with the truest esteem,

Madam,

Your most Obedient

Humble Servant,

A. Pope.

THE

-This verfe to C

Mufe! is due:

I fing-
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:

Slight is the fubject, but not fo the praise,

If the infpire, and he approve my lays.

Say what strange motive, Goddefs! could compel A well-bred Lord t'affault a gentle Belle? Oh fay what stranger caufe, yet unexplor'd, Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord?

And dwells fuch rage in fofteft bofoms then?
And lodge fuch daring fouls in little men?

Sol thro' white curtains fhot a tim'rous ray,
And op'd thofe eyes that muft eclipfe the day;
Now lapdogs give themselves the rowsing shake,
And sleepless lovers, juft at twelve, awake:
Thrice rung the bell, the flipper knock'd the ground,
And the prefs'à watch return'da filver found.
Belinda ftill her downy pillow preft,

Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest.
'Twas he had fummon'd to her filent bed
The morning-dream that hover'd o'er her head.
A youth more glitt'ring than a birth-night beau,
(That ev'n in flumber caus'd her cheek to glow)
Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay,
And thus in whispers faid, or feem'd to say.
Faireft of mortals, thou diftinguifh'd care
Of thousand bright inhabitants of air!
If e'er one vifion touch'd thy infant thought,
Of all the nurfe and all the prieft have taught,
Of airy elves by moonlight thadows feen,
The filver token, and the circled green,

Or virgin's vifited by angel-pow'rs,

With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs,

Hear