But towns unmann’d, and lords without a slave;

And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,

Its former strength was but plethoric ill.

“Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied

By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride;

From them the feeble heart and long fall’n mind

An easy compensation seem to find.

Here may be seen in bloodless pomp array’d,

The pasteboard triumph, and the cavalcade;

Processions form’d from piety and love,