And in the grave its tinsel honours lay.
No Nymph was there, to hold the helpless face,
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Or save from ruin's spoil the luckless lace;
No guardian Fair, to turn the head aside
And to securer paths the torrent glide;
From silk to silk it drove its wayward Course,
And on the diamond buckle spent its Force.
Ah! gentle Fop! what luckless fate was thine
To sin through fashion, and in woe to shine.