Page:Boileau's Lutrin - a mock-heroic poem. In six canto's. Render'd into English verse. To which is prefix'd some account of Boileau's writings, and this translation. (IA boileauslutrinmo00boil).pdf/40

But now impatient Loves and Feeds no more,
The Neighbouring Forests tremble at his Roar:
With deep fetch'd Bellowings the noble Beast$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Exhales his Spirits, and torments his Breast
At the vile Insect that disturbs his Rest.

Thus the gall'd Prelate's Rage no Balm can heal,
The Servants first his rising Fury Feel;
His Rage grows high, and kindling by Degrees,
From his stung Bosom drives inactive Peace.
He dresses, and oh Horror! makes a Vow,
Tho' Dinner waits, he to the Choir will go.
Wise Gilotin his Chaplain vainly strove,
With sage Advice this rash Resolve to move;
Councell'd, Intreated, every Danger told;
That then 'twas Noon, that Dinner wou'd be cold.

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