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The Bard proceeds like one that’s striving

To practise Arnall’s art of diving;[50]

Presents sublime and strange narrations

Of wizards, ghosts, and conjurations;

Next towers in Della Cruscan style

Above old Homer half a mile;

And flutters round in airy region,

Just like a wild goose or a pigeon;

Fired, with the theme of Haygarth’s praises

Until his rapture fairly blazes;

Then, in a duel, shows more prowess,

Than Vandal that e’er was or now is!

But I’m a man so meek and humble,[51]

I do n’t allow myself to grumble,

Am loth your patience thus to batter,

Though starving is a serious matter.[52]

Another reason too, may’t please ye,

Why thus I dare presume to tease ye;

If you my wrongs should not redress,

We all must be in one sad mess![53]

The credit of our craft is waning,

Then rouse at this my sad complaining;

For, though my fate now seem the rougher,

Still you as well as I must suffer.

Behold! a rising Institution,[54]

To spread Perkinean delusion;

Supported in their vile designs,

By doctors, quakers, dukes, divines.