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Was it for this you took such constant care
The bodkin, comb, and effence to prepare?
For this your Locks in paper durance bound,
For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around?
For this with fillets ftrain'd your tender head,
And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
Gods! fhall the ravisher display your hair,
While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare !
Honour forbid! at whofe unrival'd fhrine
Ease, pleasure, virtue, all, our fex refign.
Methinks already I your tears furvey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded toast,

And all your honour in a whisper loft!
How fhall I, then, your helpless fame defend?
'Twill then be infamy to feem your friend!
And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize,
Expos'd thro' crystal to the gazing eyes,
And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays,
On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?
Sooner fhall grafs in Hyde-park circus grow,
And wits take lodgings in the found of Bow;

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Sooner let earth, air, fea, to Chaos fall,
Men, monkies, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!
She faid; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
And bids her Beau demand the precious hairs:
(Sir Plume, of amber Snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded Cane)
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,
He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case,

And thus broke out---"My Lord, why, what the devil?
❝ Z---ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!
Plague on't! 'tis past a jest----nay prithee, pox!
"Give her the hair----he spoke, and rapp'd his box.

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It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) Who fpeaks fo well should ever speak in vain. But by this Lock, this facred Lock I fwear,


(Which never more fhall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours fhall renew, Clip'd from the lovely head where late it grew) That while my noftrils draw the vital air,

This hand, which won it, fhall for ever wear.

In allufion to Achilles's oath in Homer. II.1.



He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread The long-contended honours of her head.

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo; He breaks the viol whence the forrows flow. Then fee! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, Her eyes half languishing, half drown'd in tears, On her heav'd bofom hung her drooping head, Which, with a sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said. For ever curs'd be this detefted day,

Which fnatch'd my beft, my fav'rite Curl away!
Happy! ah ten times happy had I been,
If Hampton-Court these eyes had never seen!
Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,
By love of Courts to num'rous ills betray'd.
Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain’d

In fome lone ifle, or diftant Northern land;
Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er tafte Bohea!
There kept my charms, conceal'd from mortal eye,
Like rofes that in defarts bloom and die.

What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to rome? O had I stay'd, and faid my pray'rs at home!


"Twas this, the morning omens feem'd to tell;
Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
The tott'ring China shook without a wind,
Nay, Poll fate mute, and Shock was most unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate,
In myftic vifions, now believ'd too late!
See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands fhall rend what ev'n thy rapine fpares:
Thefe, in two fable ringlets taught to break,.
Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck;
The fifter-lock now fits uncouth, alone,
And in its fellow's fate forefees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal fheers demands;
And tempts once more thy facrilegious hands.
Oh hadft thou, cruel! been content to feize
Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but thefe! |




RAPE of the LOCK.



HE faid: the pitying audience melt in tears.

But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears.

In vain Thaleftris with reproach affails,
For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
Not half fo fix'd the Trojan could remain,
While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her fan;
Silence enfu'd, and thus the nymph began.

Say why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most,
The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toaft?

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