When at the altar a new Monarch kneels,
What conjur'd awe upon the people steals!
The chosen HE adores the precious oil,
Meekly receives the solemn charm, and while
The Priest some blessed nothings mutters o'er,
Sucks in the sacred grease at ev'ry pore:
He seems at once to shed his mortal skin,
And feels Divinity transfus'd within.
The trembling Vulgar dread the royal Nod,
And worship God's anointed more than God.