The great—what calm content the cottage bless'd;
To part the learned and the rich he tried,
Till their slow friendship perish'd in their pride.
Such was the fiend, and so secure of prey,
That only Misery pass'd unstung away.
Soon as he heard the fairy-babe was born,
Scornful he smiled, but felt no more than scorn;
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For why, when Fortune placed her state so low,
In useless spite his lofty malice show?