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THE

RAPE OF THE LOCK.

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos

Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis.-MART.

First Edition.

THE

RAPE OF THE LOCK.

CANTO I.

WHAT dire offence from am'rous causes springs,
What mighty quarrels rise from trivial things,
I sing This verse to C-1, Muse! is due:
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view :
Slight is the subject, but not so the praise,
If she inspire, and he approve my lays.

Say what strange motive, goddess! could compel
A well-bred lord t' assault a gentle belle ?

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And ope'd those eyes which brighter shine than they,
Shock just had giv'n himself the rousing shake,

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And nymphs prepared their chocolate to take;

Thrice the wrought slipper knocked against the ground,
And striking watches the tenth hour resound.
Belinda rose, and midst attending dames,
Launched on the bosm of the silver Thames :
A train of well-dressed youths around her shone,
And ev'ry eye was fixed on her alone :
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore
Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those :
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.

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Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,

And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.

Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,

Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide :

If to her share some female errors fall,

Look on her face, and you'll forgive 'em all.

This nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
Nourished two locks, which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well conspired to deck
With shining ringlets her smooth iv'ry neck.
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
With hairy springes we the birds betray,
Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey,
Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare,

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And beauty draws us with a single hair.

Th' adventurous baron the bright locks admired;

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He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired.

Resolved to win, he meditates the way,
By force to ravish, or by fraud betray;
For when success a lover's toil attends,
Few ask if fraud or force attained his ends.

For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored
Propitious heav'n, and every pow'r adored,
But chiefly Love-to Love an altar built,
Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt.

There lay the sword-knot Sylvia's hands had sewn
With Flavia's busk that oft had wrapped his own :
A fan, a garter, half a pair of gloves,
And all the trophies of his former loves.
With tender billets-doux he lights the pire,

And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire.
Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize :
The pow'rs gave ear, and granted half his pray'r,
The rest the winds dispersed in empty air.

Close by those meads, for ever crowned with flow'rs,
Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs,
There stands a structure of majestic frame,

Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name.

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Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom
Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home;
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take-and sometimes tea.
Hither our nymphs and heroes did resort,
To taste awhile the pleasures of a court;

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In various talk the cheerful hours they passed,

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Of who was bit, or who capotted last;
This speaks the glory of the British queen,
And that describes a charming Indian screen;
A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
At ev'ry word a reputation dies.

Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat,
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.

Now when, declining from the noon of day,
The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray;
When hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang that jurymen may dine;
When merchants from th' Exchange return in peace,

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And the long labours of the toilet cease,

The board's with cups and spoons, alternate, crowned,

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And see through all things with his half-shut eyes)

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