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 For these delights will he disgorge The State enormous benefice, But—by the head of either George— He pays not twice!

Whom neither lust for public pelf Nor itch to make orations vex— Content to honour his own self With his own cheques—

That man is clean. At least, his house Springs cleanly from untainted gold— Not from a conscience or a spouse Sold and resold.

Time was, you say, before men knew Such arts, and rose by Virtue guided? The tables rock with laughter—you Not least derided. 2em XIV E moulders of musical numbers, Serene and celestial Nine, Awake from your perilous slumbers, Strange enemies threaten your shrine. Despising the joyance of living They hold, in their haughty disdain, That genius consists in the giving Of infinite pain.