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Lo! next, a Bard, fecure of praise,

His felf-complacent countenance difplays.

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 fhone 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 truft to ancient ballad,

Devour'd three Pilgrims in a Sallad ;

Nor He of the fame germane, hight Pantagruel.

Accoutred

III. 3.

Accoutred thus, the advent'rous Youth

Seeks not the level lawn, or velvet mead,
Faft by whofe fide clear ftreams meand'ring

creep;

But urges on amain the fiery Steed

Up Snowdon's fhaggy 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 fee him strain !

Now down the vale he's toft

Now flashes on the fight again,

Now in the Palpable Obfcure quite loft.

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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 furrounding,

And, tip-toe on the mountain's steep,

Reflects not in the yawning deep.

IV. 2.

Sec, fee, he foars! with mighty wings outspread,

And long refounding mane,

The Courfer quits the plain.

Aloft in air, fee, see him bear

The Bard, who shrouds

His Lyric Glory in the clouds,

Too fond to ftrike the ftars 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 fpirit

Rides thee now? tho he inherit

Nor the pride nor self-opinion,

Which elate the mighty pair, Each of Tafte the fav'rite minion,

Prancing thro' the defart air;

By

By help mechanic of equestrian block,

Yet fhall he mount, with claffic housings grac❜d,

And, all unheedful of the critic mock,

Drive his light courfer o'er the bounds of Taste.

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