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OF TEMPER.
71


With wounded vanity's distracting rage
How rapidly he runs thro' every page!
He finds some honours lavish'd on his verse,
And joy's faint gleams his gloomy spirit pierce.
But oh! too soon these feeble sparks decay;
And keen vexation re-assumes her prey.
Hating reproof, in every fibre sore,
One censur'd particle torments him more,
More than a hundred happier lines delight,
Which liberal favour condescends to cite.
But time will fail us, if we pause to view
The various torments of the testy crew;
Those wretched chemists, whose o'erheated brain
Extracts from nothing a substantial pain.
Yet, ere to different districts we advance,
Take of one fretful tribe a transient glance!
Their unsuspected punishments supply
A lesson, useful to the female eye.
Spleen's liveliest agent here beguiles the gay,
Fair to attract, and flattering to betray."