COULD our first father, at his toilsome plough, Thorns in his path, and labour on his brow, Clothed only in a rude unpolished skin, Could he a vain, fantastic nymph have seen, In all her airs, in all her antic graces, Her various fashions, and more various faces; How had it posed that skill, which late assigned Just appellations to each several kind, A right idea of the sight to frame; T' have guessed from what new element she came, T' have hit the wavering form, or given this thing a name! |