Spurr'd a jackdaw and held a switch in 's hand.
The demigods, and all their glories, be
Apelles' debtors, for their deity.
Oh how the catholics cross themselves and throng
Around a crucifix, when all along
That's but a picture! How the spruce trim lass
20Doats on a picture in the looking-glass!
And how ineffable's the peasant's joy
When he has drawn his picture in his boy!
Bright angels condescend to share a part