Beautiful both, but not so plac'd
As that his pencil can combine
Their features in one whole with taste,—
What does he do? why, without scruple,
He whips the Temple up, as supple
As were those angels who (no doubt)
Carried the Virgin's House[11] about,—
And lands it plump upon the brink
Of the cascade, or whersoever
It suits his plaguy taste to think