And thou! whose sense, whose humour, and whose rage, At once can teach, delight, and lash the age, Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, Or laugh and shake in Rab'lais' easy chair, Praise courts, and monarchs, or extol mankind, Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind; Attend whatever title please thine ear, Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver. From thy Boeotia, lo! the fog retires, Yet grieve not thou at what our Isle acquires; Here dulness reigns, with mighty wings outspread, And brings the true Saturnian age of lead. |