Or as Ixion fix'd, the Wretch ſhall feel
The giddy Motion of the whirling Mill,
Midſt Fumes of burning Chocolate ſhall glow,
And tremble at the Sea that froaths below!
Some, Orb in Orb, around the Nymph extend,
Some thrid the mazy Ringlets of her Hair,
Some hang upon the Pendants of her Ear;
With beating Hearts the dire Event they wait,
Anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate.
T H E
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The RAPE of the LOCK.