ABSTRACT
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea! There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye, Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die. What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome? o had I stay'd, and said my Pray'rs at homel 160 'Twas this, the Morning Omens seem'd to tell; Thrice from my trembling hand the Patch-box fell; The tott'ring China shook without a Wind, Nay, Poll sate mute, and Shock was most Unkind I A Sylph too wam'd me of the Threats of Fate, 165 In mystic Visions, now believ'd too late! See the poor Remnants of these slighted Hairs I My hands shall rend what ev'n thy Rapine spares: These, in two sable Ringlets taught to break, Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck. 170 The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth, alone, And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own; Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands; And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands. Oh hadst thou, Cruel! been content to seize 175 Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these!
