THE ROSCIAD.
9
The coxcomb felt a lash in ev'ry word,
And fools hung out their brother fools deterr'd.
His comic humour kept the world in awe, 185
And Laughter frightn'd Folly more than Law.
And fools hung out their brother fools deterr'd.
His comic humour kept the world in awe, 185
And Laughter frightn'd Folly more than Law.
But, hark!———The trumpet sounds, the crowd gives way,
And the procession comes in just array.
And the procession comes in just array.
Now should I, in some sweet poetic line,
Offer up incense at Apollo's shrine; 190
Invoke the Muse to quit her calm abode,
And waken Mem'ry with a sleeping ode.
For how should mortal man, in mortal verse,
Their titles, merits, or their names rehearse?
But give, kind Dullness, Memory and Rhime, 195
We'll put off Genius till another time.
Offer up incense at Apollo's shrine; 190
Invoke the Muse to quit her calm abode,
And waken Mem'ry with a sleeping ode.
For how should mortal man, in mortal verse,
Their titles, merits, or their names rehearse?
But give, kind Dullness, Memory and Rhime, 195
We'll put off Genius till another time.
First, Order came,———with solemn step, and slow,
In measur'd time his feet were taught to go.
Behind, from time to time, he cast his eye,
Lest This should quit his place, That step awry. 200
Appearances to save, his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
In him his parents saw themselves renew'd,
Begotten by Sir Critic on Saint Prude.
In measur'd time his feet were taught to go.
Behind, from time to time, he cast his eye,
Lest This should quit his place, That step awry. 200
Appearances to save, his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
In him his parents saw themselves renew'd,
Begotten by Sir Critic on Saint Prude.
Then
