Page:Boileau's Lutrin - a mock-heroic poem. In six canto's. Render'd into English verse. To which is prefix'd some account of Boileau's writings, and this translation. (IA boileauslutrinmo00boil).pdf/39

He sings Oremus, he Processions makes,
With his resounding Voice the Chappel shakes:
Without thy Leave thy Blessings he bestows;
His Mouth with endless Benedictions flows:
Do'st thou then wait till this Invader's Hand
Seizes thy Mitre, takes thy high Command.
Shake off these idle Bonds, or all you lose;
Renounce thy Bishoprick, or thy Repose.

She spoke, and her infectious Breath inspires
His troubled Bosom with contentious Fires.
The drowsy Prelate at her Words revives
Confus'd and frighten'd, but his Blessing gives.

So wounded by a Wasp have I beheld
A sturdy Bull, Lord of the flow'ry Field;
Unus'd to Pain till then in amorous Play,
He Lov'd and Eat, and Wanton'd out the Day:

But