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still she undaunted reels and rattles on,

and dares the public like a noontide sun

what scandal called aria&039;s jaunty stagr

the ricket reelg of a crooked swagr?

whose spleen (e&039;en worse than burns&039; veno, when

he dips gall unix&039;d his ear pen,

and pours his venance the burng le,)—

who christen&039;d th aria&039;s lyre-dive

the idiot stru of vanity be&039;d,

and even the abe of poesy ab&039;d?—

who called her verse a parish workhoe, ade

for otley foundlg fancies, stolen or strayed?

a workhoe! ah, that und awakes y woes,

and pillows on the thorn y rack&039;d repose!

durance vile here t i wake and weep,

and all y frowsy uch rrow steep;

that straw where any a rogue has of yore,

and ver&039;d gipsies litter&039;d heretofore

why, lonsdale, th thy wrath on vagrants pour?

t earth no rascal save thyself endure?

t thou alone guilt iortal swell,

and ake a vast onopoly of hell?

thou know&039;st the virtues cannot hate thee worse;

the vices al, t they cb their curse?

or t no ty s to others fall,

becae thy guilt&039;s supre enough for all?

aria, send too thy griefs and cares;

all of thee sure thy ep shares

as thou at all ankd the fg unfurls,

who on y fair one satire&039;s venance hurls—

who calls thee, pert, affected, va ette,

a wit folly, and a fool wit!

who says that fool alone is not thy due,

and es thy treacheries to prove it true!

our force united on thy foes we&039;ll turn,

and dare the war with all of woan born:

for who can write and speak as thou and i?

y periods that decipherg defy,

and thy still atchless tongue that ners all reply!