Man’s dreaded foe in this bad man to meet:
But him our drunkards as their champion raised,
Their bishop call’d, and as their hero praised:
Though most, when sober, and the rest, when sick,
Had little question whence his bishopric.
But he, triumphant spirit! all things dared;
He poach’d the wood, and on the warren snared;
’Twas his, at cards, each novice to trepan,
And call the want of rogues “the rights of man;”
Wild as the winds he let his offspring rove,