To woods and caves she never bade retreat,
Nor fix'd in cloyster'd monkeries her seat:
No lonely precepts to her sons enjoin'd,
Nor taught them to be men, to shun mankind.
CYNICS there were, an uncouth selfish race,
Of manners foul, and boastful of disgrace:
Brutes, whom no Muse has ever lov'd to name,
Whose Ignominy is their only fame,
No hostile Trophies grace their honour'd urn,
Around their tomb no sculptur'd Virtues mourn;
Nor tells the marble into emblems grav'd,
An Art discover'd, or a City sav'd.