The rod, thrice applied, puts the darkness to flight,
Disperses the clouds, and restores us to light.
Like the Virga Divina, 'twill find out the vein
Where lurks the rich metal, the ore of the brain.
Should Genius a captive in sloth be confined,
Or the witchcraft of Pleasure prevail o'er the mind,
The magical wand but apply—with a stroke
The spell is dissolved, the enchantment is broke.
Like Hermes' caduceus, these switches inspire
Rhetorical thunder, poetical fire: