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then droops the child of song, Pensive, forlorn, as if by hope forsaken! Next Inspiration comes, with godlike zeal, And dangers seem as trifies in the scale Of "vaulting bold ambition."-A warrior now.
Th' aspiring ardent son of poesy
In armour clad, mounts the Olympian hill,
Basks in the sunny beam of Fashion! Fame'
Like the round bellied" Justice,
- full of pride
And wisdom, and reproof, and gravity;
Vexation, disappointment, petulance,
And now the last sad scene, which marks the fall Of Poesy, the loss of fame and vigour,
No more "the eye in a fine phrenzy rolling,
Now all is sinking into mere oblivion, "Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing