“Though arm’d with pow’r; know ’tis not thine
“To taste substantial joy.
XV.
“The Bee, who sips each sweet that glows
“In lawn or shady bow’r,
“Tastes all the honey as he flies,
“But never wounds the flow’r.
XVI.
“Whilst thou, both impious and unwise,
“Of all our tribes the scorn: