Nor you, ye legion fiends of Church and Law,
Pollute these pages with unhallow'd paw![62]
Debased, corrupted, grovelling, and confin'd,
No Definitions touch your senseless mind;
To you no Postulates prefer their claim,
No ardent Axioms your dull souls inflame;
For you no Tangents touch, no Angles meet,
No Circles join in osculation[63] sweet!
For me, ye Cissoids,[64] round my temples bend
Your wandering curves; ye Conchoids extend;