XXX.
Down to the lowest Lees the Ferment ran:
To his licentious Wish Each must be blest,
With Joy be fever'd; snatch it as he can.
Thus Vice the Standard rear'd; her Arrier-Ban
Corruption call'd, and loud she gave the Word.
"Mind, mind yourselves! Why should the vulgar Man,
"The Lacquey be more virtuous than his Lord?
"Enjoy this Span of Life! 'tis all the Gods afford."
XXXI.
The good old Knight enjoy'd well-earn'd Repose.
"Come, come, Sir Knight! thy Children on thee call;
"Come, save us yet, ere Ruin round us close!
"The Demon Indolence thy Toils o'erthrows."
On this the noble Colour stain'd his Cheeks,
Indignant, glowing through the whitening Snows
Of venerable Eld; his Eye full speaks
His ardent Soul, and from his Couch at once he breaks.
XXXII.
