Oh thoughtleſs Mortals! ever blind to Fate,
Too soon dejected, and too ſoon elate!
Sudden theſe Honours ſhall be ſnatch'd away,
And curs'd for ever this Victorious Day.
The Berries crackle, and the Mill turns round.
On ſhining Altars of Japan they raiſe
The ſilver Lamp; the fiery Spirits blaze.
From ſilver Spouts the grateful Liquors glide,
And China's Earth receives the ſmoking Tyde.
At once they gratify their Scent and Taſte,
While frequent Cups prolong the rich Repaſt.
Strait hover round the Fair her Airy Band;
Some, as she ſipp'd, the fuming Liquor fann'd,
Some o'er her Lap their careful Plumes diſplay'd,
Trembling, and conſcious of the rich Brocade.
Coffee, (which makes the Politician wiſe,
And ſee thro' all things with his half ſhut Eyes)
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The RAPE of the LOCK.