XLIV.

Suppose him sword by side, and hat in hand, Made up by Youth, Fame, and an army tailor-- That great enchanter, at whose rod's command Beauty springs forth, and Nature's self turns paler, Seeing how Art can make her work more grand (When she don't pin men's limbs in like a gaoler),-- Behold him placed as if upon a pillar! He[jg] Seems Love turned a Lieutenant of Artillery![506]