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The RAPE of the LOCK.
The Lock, obtain'd with Guilt, and kept with Pain,
In ev'ry place is ſought, but ſought in vain:
With ſuch a Prize no Mortal muſt be bleſt,
So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can conteſt?
In ev'ry place is ſought, but ſought in vain:
With ſuch a Prize no Mortal muſt be bleſt,
So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can conteſt?
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere,
[1]Since all things loſt on Earth, are treaſur'd there.
There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vaſes,
And Beau's in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Caſes.
There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms are found,
And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound;
The Courtiers Promiſes, and Sick Man's Pray'rs,
The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs,
Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea;
Dry'd Butterflies, and Tomes of Caſuiſtry.
[1]Since all things loſt on Earth, are treaſur'd there.
There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vaſes,
And Beau's in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Caſes.
There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms are found,
And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound;
The Courtiers Promiſes, and Sick Man's Pray'rs,
The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs,
Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea;
Dry'd Butterflies, and Tomes of Caſuiſtry.
But truſt the Muſe———she ſaw it upward riſe,
Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetick Eyes:
(So Rome's great Founder to the Heav'ns withdrew,
To Proculus alone confeſs'd in View.)
Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetick Eyes:
(So Rome's great Founder to the Heav'ns withdrew,
To Proculus alone confeſs'd in View.)
