He, guardian Genius! taught my youth
Pomp's tinsel livery to despise;
My lips, by him chastised to truth,
Ne'er paid that homage which my heart denies. 80

ANTISTROPHE.

Those sculptured halls my feet shall never tread,
Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity, combined
To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread,
And forge vile shackles for the freeborn mind;
While Insolence his wrinkled front uprears,
And all the flowers of spurious Fancy blow;
And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,
Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's brow;
Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale Profession's froth; 90
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
Torments the sons of gluttony and sloth.

STROPHE.

In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
With either India's glittering spoils oppress'd;
So moves the sumpter-mule in harness'd pride,
That bears the treasure which he cannot taste.
For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,
And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string;
Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay;
And jingling bells fantastic Folly ring; 100