BUT think not, though these dastard chiefs are fled,
That C—ve—nt-G—rd—n troops shall want an head:
Harlequin comes their chief! — See, from afar,
The heroe seated in fantastic car!
Wedded to Novelty, his only arms
Are wooden swords, wands, talismans, and charms.
On one side Folly sits, by some call'd Fun,
And, on the other, his arch-patron LUN.
Behind, for Liberty a-thirst in vain,
Sense, helpless captive, drags the galling chain.
Six rude mishapen beasts the chariot draw,
Whom Reason loaths, and Nature never saw;
Monsters, with tails of ice, and heads of fire;
Gorgons, and hydras, and chymaeras dire.
Each was bestrode by full as monstrous wight,
Giant, Dwarf, Genius, Elf, Hermaphrodite.
The Town, as usual, met him in full cry:
The Town, as usual, knew no reason why.
But Fashion so directs, and Moderns raise,
On Fashion's mould'ring base, their transient praise.