VII.

Dogs, or men!--for I flatter you[368] in saying That ye are dogs--your betters far--ye may Read, or read not, what I am now essaying To show ye what ye are in every way. As little as the moon stops for the baying Of wolves, will the bright Muse withdraw one ray From out her skies--then howl your idle wrath! While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path.