Made epigrams occasionally too
Upon her friends, as everybody ought.
But still from that sublimer azure hue,[787]
So much the present dye, she was remote;
Was weak enough to deem Pope a great poet,
And what was worse, was not ashamed to show it.
XLVIII.
Aurora—since we are touching upon taste,
Which now-a-days is the thermometer
By whose degrees all characters are classed—