Are the dull Treasures of a brain at peace.
No wit intoxicates thy gentle skull,
90
Of heavy, native, [unwrought] folly full;
Bowl upon Bowl in vain exert their force;
The breathing Spirit takes a downward course,
Or, vainly soaring upwards to the head,
Meets an impenetrable tence of lead.
Hast thou, Oh Reader! search'd o'er gentle Gay,
Where various animals their powers display?