shall we take the  abroad,
To drop her idly on the Road?
And leave our Subject in the middle;
As  did his Bear and Fiddle?
Yet He, consummate Master, knew
When to recede, and where pursue:
His noble Negligences teach,
What Others Toils despair to reach.
He, perfect Dancer, climbs the Rope,
And balances your Fear and Hope:
If after some distinguish'd Leap,
He drops his Pole, and seems to slip;
Straight gath'ring all his active Strength,
He rises higher half his Length.
With Wonder You approve his Slight;
And owe your Pleasure to your Fright.
But, like poor , I advance,
False  of my Master's Dance:
A-round the Cord a while I sprawl;
And thence, tho' low, in earnest fall.