The Rape of the Lock, by Alexander Pope

One really can't review great poetry. One can only enjoy it. In high school, Pope was a ridiculous chore; now he's delightful.

"Soft yielding minds to Water glide away,
And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental Tea."

But why does Ariel abandon the job of protecting Belinda right in the middle of the story?

"Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art,
An earthly Lover lurking at her heart.
Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,
Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired."

Rather an abrupt way to move the action along. And it's only Canto III.

When you have finished this, do move on to John Gay: "To a Lady, on Her Passion for Old China." The dishes, not the country.