Methinks already I your Tears furvey, Already hear the horrid Things they fay, And all your Sall Honour in a Whisper loft! How fhall I, then, your helpless Fame defend? And shall this Prize, th' ineftimable Prize, And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays, She faid; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, [Devil? And thus broke out-- "My Lord, why, what the [civil! "Z---ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be "Plague on't! 'tis paft 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) Who fpeaks fo well fhou'd 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, Clipt from the lovely Head where once it grew) 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 Sorrows flow. Then fee! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears, Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears, In allufion to Achilles's Oath in Homer, 11, г. On On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head, Which, with a Sigh, the fais'd; and thus the said. For ever curs'd be this detefted Day,.. Which fratch'd my belt, my fav rite Cutaway! Happy! ah ten times happy, had I beeng If Hampton-Court thefe Eyes had never feen! Yet am not I the firft mistaken Maid, By Love of Courts to num'rous Ills betray'd. What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome? A Sylph too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate, See the poor Remnants of this flighted Hair! THE |