A thoughtful being, long and spare,
Our race of mortals call him Care;
(Were Homer living, well he knew
What name the gods have call'd him too)
With fine mechanic genius wrought,
And loved to work, though no one bought.

This being, by a model bred
In Jove's eternal sable head,
Contrived a shape, empower'd to breathe,
And be the worldling here beneath. 10

The Man rose staring, like a stake,
Wondering to see himself awake!
Then look'd so wise, before he knew
The business he was made to do,
That, pleased to see with what a grace
He gravely show'd his forward face,
Jove talk'd of breeding him on high,
An under-something of the sky.

But e'er he gave the mighty nod,
Which ever binds a poet's god, 20
(For which his curls ambrosial shake,
And mother Earth's obliged to quake:)
He saw old mother Earth arise,
She stood confess'd before his eyes;
But not with what we read she wore,
A castle for a crown, before;