In all he says, or sings, or writes.

This foul defamer, crawling round

The brink of hell, to catch its sound,

Exsudes it thence, in doleful rhyme,

Debased and reeking rank with crime.

On this deformity of man,

More monstrous than the bastard Pan,

Pegasus turn'd his nimble feet,

As Park, on crutches, crawl'd the street;

Urging that steed, against his will,

To bear him up Helicon's hill.

But Pegasus, a knowing horse,

Perceived that Park's conceited verse

Was only suited to the stews

Of hell, whence emanates his muse.

He, therefore, with Bellerophon,

Left him behind, well trampled on,

To tune a pilfer'd, broken lyre,

In fields of mud, and muck, and mire;

And there, his song most lowly set,

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