And scatter thousands,—what tho’ envy say
He gave his thousands in the eye of day,
He gains his just reward, applauses by’t,
Nor in a scanty bushel hides his light.
Tell how the fair are now so wond’rous kind,
Their love is boundless, free and unconfin’d,
To all their soft approving glances fly,
To all that are unknown to poverty.
Next sing the trim well-powder’d warriors course,
Recount the gorgeous trappings of his horse;