Page:The Dunciad - Alexander Pope (1743).djvu/113

82 "The race by vigour, not by vaunts is won; "So take the hindmost, Hell." He said, and run. Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind, He left huge Lintot, and out-strip'd the wind. As when a dab-chick waddles thro' the copse On feet and wings, and flies, and wades, and hops; So lab'ring on, with shoulders, hands, and head, Wide as a wind-mill all his figures spread,