Dick ended:—Tom and Will approve’d his strains;
And thought his Legend made as good a figure
As naturalizing a dull German’s brains,
Which beget issues in the Heliconian stews,
Upon a profligate Tenth Muse,
In all the gloomy impotence of vigour.[1]
“’Twas now the very witching time of night,
When Prosers yawn.”—Discussion grew diffuse: