The Rape Of The Lock (canto 5) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEEFFGGHIJJKLMM NNOOMMPPNQRRSS TTUUVVUUWW XXYYWWMM ZZMM UUA2A2B2B2C2C2UU D2D2DE2 B2B2F2F2 UUG2G2TTH2H2I2I2UU F2F2J2J2D2D2H2H2UU HHK2K2L2L2 K2K2DDK2K2DDK2K2 M2B2UUK2K2UUN2B2 UUB2B2B2B2K2K2UU MMO2O2UUP2P2 B2B2K2K2G2G2K2K2P2P2| She said the pitying audience melt in tears | A |
| But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears | B |
| In vain Thalestris with reproach assails | C |
| For who can move when fair Belinda fails | C |
| Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain | D |
| While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain | D |
| Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her fan | E |
| Silence ensu'd and thus the nymph began | E |
| Say why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most | F |
| The wise man's passion and the vain man's toast | F |
| Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford | G |
| Why angels call'd and angel like ador'd | G |
| Why round our coaches crowd the white glov'd beaux | H |
| Why bows the side box from its inmost rows | I |
| How vain are all these glories all our pains | J |
| Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains | J |
| That men may say when we the front box grace | K |
| 'Behold the first in virtue as in face ' | L |
| Oh if to dance all night and dress all day | M |
| Charm'd the smallpox or chas'd old age away | M |
| Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce | N |
| Or who would learn one earthly thing of use | N |
| To patch nay ogle might become a saint | O |
| Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint | O |
| But since alas frail beauty must decay | M |
| Curl'd or uncurl'd since locks will turn to grey | M |
| Since painted or not painted all shall fade | P |
| And she who scorns a man must die a maid | P |
| What then remains but well our pow'r to use | N |
| And keep good humour still whate'er we lose | Q |
| And trust me dear good humour can prevail | R |
| When airs and flights and screams and scolding fail | R |
| Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll | S |
| Charms strike the sight but merit wins the soul | S |
| - | |
| So spoke the dame but no applause ensu'd | T |
| Belinda frown'd Thalestris call'd her prude | T |
| To arms to arms the fierce virago cries | U |
| And swift as lightning to the combat flies | U |
| All side in parties and begin th' attack | V |
| Fans clap silks rustle and tough whalebones crack | V |
| Heroes' and heroines' shouts confus'dly rise | U |
| And bass and treble voices strike the skies | U |
| No common weapons in their hands are found | W |
| Like gods they fight nor dread a mortal wound | W |
| - | |
| So when bold Homer makes the gods engage | X |
| And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage | X |
| 'Gainst Pallas Mars Latona Hermes arms | Y |
| And all Olympus rings with loud alarms | Y |
| Jove's thunder roars heav'n trembles all around | W |
| Blue Neptune storms the bellowing deeps resound | W |
| Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs the ground gives way | M |
| And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day | M |
| - | |
| Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height | Z |
| Clapp'd his glad wings and sate to view the fight | Z |
| Propp'd on their bodkin spears the sprites survey | M |
| The growing combat or assist the fray | M |
| - | |
| While through the press enrag'd Thalestris flies | U |
| And scatters death around from both her eyes | U |
| A beau and witling perish'd in the throng | A2 |
| One died in metaphor and one in song | A2 |
| O cruel nymph a living death I bear | B2 |
| Cried Dapperwit and sunk beside his chair | B2 |
| A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast | C2 |
| Those eyes are made so killing was his last | C2 |
| Thus on M eander's flow'ry margin lies | U |
| Th' expiring swan and as he sings he dies | U |
| - | |
| When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down | D2 |
| Chloe stepp'd in and kill'd him with a frown | D2 |
| She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain | D |
| But at her smile the beau reviv'd again | E2 |
| - | |
| Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air | B2 |
| Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair | B2 |
| The doubtful beam long nods from side to side | F2 |
| At length the wits mount up the hairs subside | F2 |
| - | |
| See fierce Belinda on the baron flies | U |
| With more than usual lightning in her eyes | U |
| Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try | G2 |
| Who sought no more than on his foe to die | G2 |
| But this bold lord with manly strength endu'd | T |
| She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd | T |
| Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew | H2 |
| A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw | H2 |
| The Gnomes direct to ev'ry atom just | I2 |
| The pungent grains of titillating dust | I2 |
| Sudden with starting tears each eye o'erflows | U |
| And the high dome re echoes to his nose | U |
| - | |
| Now meet thy fate incens'd Belinda cried | F2 |
| And drew a deadly bodkin from her side | F2 |
| The same his ancient personage to deck | J2 |
| Her great great grandsire wore about his neck | J2 |
| In three seal rings which after melted down | D2 |
| Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown | D2 |
| Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew | H2 |
| The bells she jingled and the whistle blew | H2 |
| Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs | U |
| Which long she wore and now Belinda wears | U |
| - | |
| Boast not my fall he cried insulting foe | H |
| Thou by some other shalt be laid as low | H |
| Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind | K2 |
| All that I dread is leaving you benind | K2 |
| Rather than so ah let me still survive | L2 |
| And burn in Cupid's flames but burn alive | L2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| Restore the lock she cries and all around | K2 |
| Restore the lock the vaulted roofs rebound | K2 |
| Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain | D |
| Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain | D |
| But see how oft ambitious aims are cross'd | K2 |
| The chiefs contend 'till all the prize is lost | K2 |
| The lock obtain'd with guilt and kept with pain | D |
| In ev'ry place is sought but sought in vain | D |
| With such a prize no mortal must be blest | K2 |
| So Heav'n decrees with Heav'n who can contest | K2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere | M2 |
| Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there | B2 |
| There hero's wits are kept in pond'rous vases | U |
| And beaux' in snuff boxes and tweezercases | U |
| There broken vows and deathbed alms are found | K2 |
| And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound | K2 |
| The courtier's promises and sick man's prayers | U |
| The smiles of harlots and the tears of heirs | U |
| Cages for gnats and chains to yoke a flea | N2 |
| Dried butterflies and tomes of casuistry | B2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| But trust the Muse she saw it upward rise | U |
| Though mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes | U |
| So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew | B2 |
| To Proculus alone confess'd in view | B2 |
| A sudden star it shot through liquid air | B2 |
| And drew behind a radiant trail of hair | B2 |
| Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright | K2 |
| The heav'ns bespangling with dishevell'd light | K2 |
| The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies | U |
| And pleas'd pursue its progress through the skies | U |
| - | |
| - | |
| This the beau monde shall from the Mall survey | M |
| And hail with music its propitious ray | M |
| This the blest lover shall for Venus take | O2 |
| And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake | O2 |
| This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies | U |
| When next he looks through Galileo's eyes | U |
| And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom | P2 |
| The fate of Louis and the fall of Rome | P2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| Then cease bright nymph to mourn thy ravish'd hair | B2 |
| Which adds new glory to the shining sphere | B2 |
| Not all the tresses that fair head can boast | K2 |
| Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost | K2 |
| For after all the murders of your eye | G2 |
| When after millions slain yourself shall die | G2 |
| When those fair suns shall set as set they must | K2 |
| And all those tresses shall be laid in dust | K2 |
| This lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame | P2 |
| And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name | P2 |
Alexander Pope
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About The Rape Of The Lock (canto 5)
The Rape Of The Lock (canto 5) is a poem by Alexander Pope. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.