But cries unheard: For Folly will be free.

So parts the buzzing gaudy Crowd, and He:
As careless he for them, as they for him;

He wrapt in Wisdom, and they whirl'd by Whim.

COME

The Book-Worm, ravening Beast of Prey,

Produc'd by Parent Earth, at odds
(As Fame reports it) with the Gods.
Him frantick Hunger wildly drives
Against a thousand Authors Lives:
Thro' all the Fields of Wit he flies;
Dreadful his Head with cluftring Eyes,
With Horns without, and Tusks within,
And Scales to serve him for a Skin.

Obferve him nearly, left he climb

To wound the Bards of antient Time,

Or

See where his Teeth a Paffage eat:

We'll roufe him from the deep Retreat.

But who the Shelter's forc'd to give?

Tis Sacred Virgil as I live!

From Leaf to Leaf, from Song to Song, A
He draws the tadpole Form along, tot l'n 107
He mounts the gilded Edge before, abiraba
He's up, he fcuds the Cover o'er, Alat
He turns, he doubles, there he past,
And here we have him, caught at last.

12 px

Infatiate Brute, whofe Teeth abufe

The sweetest Servants of the Muse.

(Nay never offer to deny,

I took thee in the Fact to fly.)

His Rofes nipt in ev'ry Page,
My poor Anacreon mourns thy Rage.
By thee my Ovid wounded lies;

By thee my Lesbia's Sparrow dies:
Thy rabid Teeth have half destroy'd ortod

The Work of Love in Biddy Floyd,

They rent Belinda's Locks away,

And spoil'd the Blouzelind of Gay, Da For all, for ev'ry fingle Deed,

Relentless Justice bids thee bleed.

Then fall a Victim to the Nine, ad

My felf the Priest, my Desk the Shrine,

Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,
You reach'd the Plays that D-s writ ;
You reach'd me Phs ruftick Strain ;]
Pray take your mortal Bards again.

The Goblet in my Hand I take,

(For the Libation's yet to make) mattoon
A Health to Poets! all their Days

May they have Bread, as well as Praise,
Senfe may they feek, and lefs engage

In Papers fill'd with Party-Rage,
But if their Riches spoil their Vein

Ye Mufes, make them poor again.

Now