AS snarling Momus sung descenting Bees,
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That in Assemblies sat to civilize,
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A wand'ring Wasp who lately lost his Sting,
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By soaring higher then he'd Strength of Wing.
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The nine Seraphick struck the sacred Lyre,
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And thus broke Silence with a Divine Air,
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Amaz'd you Gods, may this terrestical Dome,
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Fly to its Chaos and resign its Form,
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May Man no Matters know, save what's meer Chance,
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Or Meteors Measure in the vast Expanse,
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Ere they acknowledge one Eternal Three,
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Of equal Substance, and the same Degree,
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Which sometime since a daring factious Drone
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Deny'd, and thereby did demean the Son,
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Glorying to grasp at what he cou'd not gain,
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And meaning furder than he durst explain.
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Thus Vice was vernish'd, when the very Bees
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That should be Cautious were contriving Pleas,
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And sought all Opportunities, to shew
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Weak Wasp the wond'rous Worth and Wit of you,
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Wildly inferring that infamous Creed
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Of yours, but Labour would procure you Bread,
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Nor could their Speeches silveriz'd Escape,
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To gain you Credit in a Clergy Scap:
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But seurlous Pamphlets must applaud the Crime,
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To prove how glorious you'd appear in Ryhme;
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Where, had the Author been as wise as old;
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He on the contrar would from Conscience told,
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How you was hir'd with Honey to do harm;
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The very worst Wasp in a Winter Swarm,
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Industrious e're to do redoubel'd Ills,
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Which made a zealous Webster wave all else,
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To wait this Wasp, who wilfully imprest
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Black Heresy in ev'ry Bumbees Breast,
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Till trap'd by Truth, he turns the counter Part,
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And feigns Obedience foreign to his Heart,
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A happy Change, hear me you humming Cleg,
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May this Impression ever with you bide;
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But ah not long when learn'd Webster dies,
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A Check to all erroneous idle Bees,
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This Wasp relapses, and's again arrign'd,
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For Bum Blasphemous Babbels he maintain'd,
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And was held furth by all the Hum-drum Scribes.
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(Who of him makes a Master-bee for Bribes,)
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As one entirely innocent and free,
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From Faults that's fattal, but a feather'd Bee,
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While better's branded with the Name of Bums,
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'Cause none of blust'ring Bellials Bastard Sons;
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But since perhaps it was the Author's Aim,
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That we thus read the Reverie of his Theme,
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Madder for milder Divine Bees for Drones,
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Let's cease since Heaven has shut his Mouth for once.
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