ABSTRACT
The Dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in eaoh eye, and Papers in each hand, 5 They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
What Walls can guard me, or what Shades can hide? They pierce my Thickets, thro' my Grot they glide, By land, by water, they renew the charge, They stop the Chariot, and they board the Barge. 10 No place is sacred, not the Church is free, Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me: Then from the Mint walks forth the Man of Ryme, Happy! to catch me, just at Dinner-time.
