lordling's honour, there; Here native sweets in boon profusion flow There smells that scented nothing of a beau; Let justice here unequal combat wage Nor poise the judgment of the law-learned sage; Though all-proportioned with exactest skill, Yet gay as woman's wish, and various as her will.

140 These sons of sloth, who by profusion thrive, His pride inveigled from the public hive: And numbers pine in solitary woe, Who furnish'd out this phantasy of show.

Sun-burnt his cheek, his forehead high and pale, The sable curls in wild profusion veil.