B LUSH , ribald Wit, and Folly's wasted life,
In guilty revels, or envenom'd strife!
Ye Hypocrites, and Pedants, disappear!
Ye vain and selfish beasts — oh, come not here!

The mind that once inform'd this hallow'd clay,
With Attic wreaths of social wit could play:
But moral Wisdom gave the Satire birth —
'Twas Plato's fancy, and Socratic mirth.

Still by the decent Graces un-reprov'd,
It was their smile that all the Muses lov'd:
It was their spirit that was Friendship's right,
The judgment's prompter, and the heart's delight.