Know, then, fair Cowley's Muse will paint a wight,
Who thinks that Learning's always in the right.
But, sure, of tonish life he little knows
Who worships scholars, and who laughs at beaux!
Which of the bucks that shine in Pleasure's round
Was e'er a scholar or a critic found?
By Fashion's rule the sweets of life they cull,
"Gay by constraint, and elegantly dull. "
They ne'er o'er Homer's thund'ring verses pore;
And Tully's self they deem an arrant bore.
When such the charming youths our isle can boast,
What chance has Learning with a reigning toast?
For both our sakes, ye Fair, I hope our Bard
Has on the softer sex been somewhat hard:
For, if the picture she presents be just,
Then — books farewell! — consign'd to mould'ring dust;
For, who the toils of Learning will pursue,
If unprotected and ungrac'd by you?