ad.
Yet oft a mimic gleam of transient light
Breaks thro' this gloom, and then they think they write;
From Streets to Streets th' unnumber'd Pamphlets fly,
Then tremble _Warner_, _Brown_, and _Billingsly_.[39]

O thou most gentle Deity appear,
Thou who still hear'st, and yet art prone to hear:
Whose eye ne'er closes, and whose brains ne'er rest,
(Thy own dear Dulness bawling at thy breast)
Attend, O _Patience_, on thy arm reclin'd,
And see Wit's endless enemies behind!

And ye, _Our Muses_, with a _hundred tongues_,
And Thou, O _Henley!_ blest with _brazen lungs_;
Fanatic _Withers!_ fam'd for rhimes and sighs,
And _Jacob Behmen!_ most obscurely wise;
From darkness palpable, on dusky wings
Ascend! and shroud him who your Off-spring sings.

The first with _Egypt_'s darkness in his head
Thinks Wit the devil, and curses books unread.
For twice ten winters has he blunder'd on,
Thro' heavy comments, yet ne'er lost nor won:
Much may be done in twenty winters more,
And let him then learn _English_ at threescore.
No sacred _Maro_ glitters on his shelf,
He wants the mighty _Stagyrite_ himself.
See vast _Coimbria_'s comments[40] pil'd on high,
In heaps _Soncinas_,[41] _Sotus_, _Sanchez_ lie:
For idle hours, _Sa_'s[42] idler casuistry.

Yet worse is he, who in one language read,
Has one eternal jingling in his head,
At night, at morn, in bed, and on the stairs ...
Talks flights to grooms, and makes lewd songs at pray'rs
His Pride, a Pun: a Guinea his Reward,
His Critick _G-ld-n_, _Jemmy M-re_ his Bard.

What artful Hand the Wretch's Form can hit,
Begot by _Satan_ on a _M----ly_'s Wit:
In Parties furious at the great Man's nod,
And hating none for nothing, but his God:
Foe to the Learn'd, the Virtuous, and the Sage,
A Pimp in Youth, an Atheist in old Age:
Now plung'd in Bawdry and substantial Lyes,
Now dab'ling in ungodly Theories;
But so, as Swallows skim the pleasing flood,
Grows giddy, but ne'er drinks to do him good:
Alike resolv'd to flatter, or to cheat,
Nay worship Onions, if they cry, _come eat_:
A foe to Faith, in Revelation blind,
And impious much, as Dunces are by kind.

Next see the Master-piece of Flatt'ry rise,
Th' anointed Son of Dulness and of Lies:
Whose softest Whisper fills a Patron's Ear,
Who smiles unpleas'd, and mourns without a tear.[43]
Persuasive, tho' a woful Blockhead he: