Page:The Dunciad - Alexander Pope (1743).djvu/117

86 Vig'rous he rises; from th' effluvia strong Imbibes new life, and scours and stinks along; Re-passes Lintot, vindicates the race, Nor heeds the brown dishonours of his face. And now the victor stretch'd his eager hand Where the tall Nothing stood, or seem'd to stand; A shapeless shade, it melted from his sight, Like forms in clouds, or visions of the night. To seize his papers, Curl, was next thy care; His papers light, fly diverse, tost in air; Songs, sonnets, epigrams the winds uplift, And whisk 'em back to Evans, Young, and Swift.