Good sense our souls deliver!
Men rush like the Gadaree swine, O Pan!
With contagious fear a-shiver,
They flock like Panurge's poor sheep, O Pan!
What, what shall the merest of manhood quicken
In geese gregarious, panic-stricken
Like frighted fish in the river.
You sneer at the shame of them, Poster-Pan,
Poltroons of the pigeon-liver.
Your placards gibbet them, Poster-Pan,