Distorted Elf! to Nature a Disgrace,
Thy Mind envenom’d pictur’d in thy Face;
Malice with Envy in thy Breast combines,
And in thy Visage grav’d those ghastly Lines.
Like Plagues, like Death thy ranc’rous Arrows fly,
At Good and Bad, at Friend and Enemy.
To thy own Breast recoils the erring Dart,
Corrupts thy Blood, and rankles in thy Heart.
There swell the Poisons which thy Breast distend,
And with the Load thy Mountain Shoulders bend.