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By hill, and dale, and mead, and greenswerd gay :

Till fated with the pleasing ride,

From the lofty fteed dismounting,

He lies along, enwrapt in conscious pride,

By gurgling rill or crystal fountain.

Lo!

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Lo! next, a Bard, secure of praise,
His self-complacent countenance displays.

His broad mustachios, ting'd with golden dye, Flame, like a meteor, to the troubled air :

Proud his demeanor, and his eagle eye O'erhung with lavish lid, yet shone with glorious

glare.
The grizzle grace
Of bushy peruke shadow'd o'er his face.

In large wide boots, whose pond'rous weight
Would fink each wight of modern date,
He rides, well-pleas'd. So large a pair

Not Garagantua's self might wear ;
Not he, of nature fierce and cruel,

Who, if we trust to ancient ballad,

Devour'd three pilgrims in a sallad ; Nor he of the fame germane, hight Pantagruel.

Accoutred

III. 3.

Acccatred thus, the advent'rous youth
Seeks not the level lawn, or velvet mead,
Fast by whose fide clear streams meand'ring

creep ; But urges on amain the fiery steed Up Snowdon's shaggy fide, or Cambrian rock un

couth :

Where the venerable herd

Of goats, with long and fapient beard,
And wanton kidlings their blithe revels keep ;

Now up the mountain see him strain !

Now down the vale he's toft,
Now flashes on the fight again,
Now in the Palpable Obscure quite loft.

IV. 1.
Man's feeble race eternal dangers wait,

With high or low, all, all, is woe,
Disease, mischance, pale fear and dubious fate.

But, o'er every peril bounding
Ambition views not all the ills surrounding,

And,

And, tip-toe on the mountain's steep.
Reflects not on the yawning deep.

IV. 2.

See, fee, he soars ! with mighty wings outspread,

And long resounding mane,

The Courser quits the plain.
Aloft in air, see, see him bear

The Bard, who shrouds

His Lyric glory in the clouds, Too fond to strike the stars with lofty head ! He topples headlong from the giddy height, Deep in the Cambrian Gulph immerg’d in endless

night.

IV. 3.

O Steed Divine ! what daring spirit

Rides thee now } tho' he inherit

Nor the pride nor self-opinion,

Which elate the mighty pair,
Each of Taste the fav’rite minion,

Prancing thro' the defart air ;

By

By help mechanic of equestrian block, Yet shall he mount, with classic housings grac'd,

And, all unheedful of the critic mock, Drive his light courser o'er the bounds of Taste.

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