With like Confuſion different Nations fly,
In various Habits and of various Dye,
The pierc'd Battalions diſ-united fall,
In Heaps on Heaps; one Fate o'erwhelms them all.
And wins (oh ſhameful Chance!) the Queen of Hearts.
At this, the Blood the Virgin's Cheek forſook,
A livid Paleneſs spreads o'er all her Look;
She ſees, and trembles at th' approaching Ill,
Juſt in the Jaws of Ruin, and Codille.
And now, (as oft in ſome diſtemper'd State)
On one nice Trick depends the gen'ral Fate.
An Ace of Hearts ſteps forth: The King unſeen
Lurk'd in her Hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen.
He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace,
And falls like Thunder on the proſtrate Ace.
The Nymph exulting fills with Shouts the Sky,
The Walls, the Woods, and long Canals reply.
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The RAPE of the LOCK.