Page:The rape of the lock.djvu/65

⁠While thro' the Preſs enrag'd Thaleſtris flies,
And ſcatters Deaths around from both her Eyes,
A Beau and Witling periſh'd in the Throng,
One dy'd in Metaphor, and one in Song.
O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear,
Cry'd Dapperwit, and ſunk beſide his Chair.
A mournful Glance Sir Fopling upwards caſt,
^[1]Thoſe Eyes are made ſo killing———was his laſt:
Thus on Meander's flow'ry Margin lies
Th' expiring Swan, and as he ſings he dies.

⁠As bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariſſa down,
Chloe ſtept in, and kill'd him with a Frown;
She ſmil'd to ſee the doughty Hero ſlain,
But at her Smile the Beau reviv'd again.

⁠^[2]Now Jove ſuſpends his golden Scales in Air,
Weighs the Mens Wits againſt the Lady's Hair;

The

1. A Song in the Opera of Camilla.
2. Vid. Homer. Il. 22. & Virg. Æn. 12.