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Was it for this you took fuch conftant 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? 10
For this with fillets ftrain'd your tender head,
And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
Gods! fhall the ravisher difplay your hair,
While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare !
Honour forbid! at whofe unrival'd fhrine
Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex refign.
Methinks already I your tears furvey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already fee
you a degraded toast,
And all your honour in a whisper loft! 116
How fhall I, then, your helplefs fame defend?
'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend!
And fhall this prize, th' ineftimable prize,
Expos'd thro' cryftal to the gazing eyes,
And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays,
On that rapacious hand for ever blaze! 116
Sooner fhall grafs in Hyde-park Circus grow,
And wits take lodgings in the found of Bow;
Sooner let earth, air, fea, to Chaos fall,

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, 125 He first the fnuff-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

Plague on't! 'tis past a jeft--nay prithee, pox!
"Give her the hair"--he spoke, and rapp'd his box.
It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) 131
Who speaks fo well should ever speak in vain.
But by this Lock, this facred Lock I fwear,
(Which never more shall join its parted hair;
Which never more its honours fhall renew, 135
Clip'd from the lovely head where late it grew)

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VER. 121. Sir Plume repairs,] Sir George Brown. He was the only one of the Party who took the thing seriously. He was angry that the Poet fhould make him talk nothing but nonsense; and in truth, one could not well blame him.


VER. 133. But by this Lock,] In allufion to Achilles's oath in Homer, II. i. P.


That while my noftrils draw the vital air,
This hand, which won it, fhall for ever wear.
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 Vial 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 figh, fhe rais'd; and thus she said, For ever curs'd be this detefted day, Which fnatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl away! Happy! ah ten times happy had I been,

If Hampton-Court these eyes had never feen! 150 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 some lone ifle, or diftant Northern land; Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way, 156 Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea!


VER. 141. But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo; He breaks the Vial whence the forrows flow.] Thele two lines are additional; and affign the cause of the different operation on the Paffions of the two Ladies. The poem went on before without that distinction, as without any Machinery to the end

There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
Like rofes, that in deferts bloom and die.
What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to roam?
O had I ftay'd, and faid my pray'rs at home! 160
'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 fat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate, 165
In myftic vifions, now believ'd too late!

See the poor remnants of these flighted hairs!
My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares:
These in two fable ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new beauties to the fnowy neck; 170
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 175
Hairs lefs in fight, or any hairs but these!

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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 Thalestris 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 Clariffa 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 toast?

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VER. 7. Then grave Clariffa, etc.] A new Character introduced in the fubfequent Editions, to open more clearly the MORAL of the Poem, in a parody of the speech of Sarpedon Glaucus in Homer, P.


VER. 9. Say why are beauties, etc.]

Why boaft we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus' ftreams enrich the Lycian plain;
Our num'rous herds that range the fruitful field,
And hills where vines their purple harvest yield;

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