And, Pug! your golden dreams have pass'd—
Well may you mourn the luckless hour
You plac'd yourself in Mentor's power—
The knowing practices he taught you;
To a bad winding-up have brought you,
Stripp'd of your gains, you now, too late,
Distracted, curse your bitter fate,
And gnash your teeth, and grasp your hair,
In all the raving of despair.
How shall such anguish be appeas'd?