Description[ edit ] The poem satirises a small incident by comparing it to the epic world of the gods. Arabella Fermor and her suitor, Lord Petre , were both from aristocratic recusant Catholic families, at a time in England when, under such laws as the Test Act , all denominations except Anglicanism suffered legal restrictions and penalties. For example, Petre, being a Catholic, could not take the place in the House of Lords that would otherwise have been rightfully his. In terms of the sensibilities of the age, however, even this non-consensual personal invasion might be interpreted as bringing dishonour.
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No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. The fair ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease. Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires: Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, And crystal domes, and angels in machines.
But oh! A wondrous bag with both her hands she binds, Like that where once Ulysses held the winds; There she collects the force of female lungs, Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues. A vial next she fills with fainting fears, Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears. The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away, Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day. Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.
Honour forbid! Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost! How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend? Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow, And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, Men, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!
But Umbriel, hateful gnome! Then see! See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs! Oh hadst thou, cruel!
ALEXANDER POPE IL RICCIOLO RAPITO PDF
No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. The fair ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease. Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires: Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, And crystal domes, and angels in machines. But oh!
The Rape of the Lock: Canto 4
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Category:The Rape of the Lock