Why, even Saints and Sages would have cuss’d
If, speeding through the World, their Tires had Bust!
Like Foolish People now, whose words of Scorn
Are utter’d while their Mouths are Stopt with Dust.
When suddenly, an Angel Shape was seen
Approaching in an Up-to-date Machine,
Bearing a Vessel which he offered me,
And bid me smell of it. ’Twas Gasolene!