Now to the Baron Fate inclines the Field.
His warlike Amazon her Hoſt invades,
Th' Imperial Conſort of the Crown of Spades.
The Club's black Tyrant firſt her Victim dy'd,
Spite of his haughty Mien, and barb'rous Pride:
What boots the Regal Circle on his Head,
His Giant Limbs in State unwieldy ſpread?
That long behind he trails his pompous Robe,
And of all Monarchs only graſps the Globe?
Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his Face,
And his refulgent Queen, with Pow'rs combin'd,
Of broken Troops an eaſie Conquest find.
Clubs', Diamonds, Hearts, in wild Diſorder ſeen,
With Throngs promiſcuous strow the level Green.
Thus when diſpers'd a routed Army runs,
Of Aſia's Troops, and Africk's Sable Sons,
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The RAPE of the LOCK.