Thy wit in vain th' invenom'd Critic gnaws: The polish'd metal breaks the Serpent's jaws. Pain'd and inrag'd it on thy person flies; But strait drops off, and feebly hissing dies. Impartial Heav'n which ne'er thought fit to join A beauteous form to such bright wit as thine; Careless to grace the frail corporeal part, Has on thy Soul exerted double art.
