'Tis true the man of verse, tho' born to ills,
Too oft deserves the very fate he feels.
When, vainly frequent at the great man's board,
He shares in ev'ry vice with ev'ry lord:
Makes to their taste his sober sense submit,
And 'gainst his reason madly arms his wit;
Heav'n but in justice turns their serious heart
To scorn the wretch, whose life belies his art.