Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/92

 Warm Convocations own the Church secure, And more consult her Doctrine than her Pow'r.

With that he drew a Lancet in his Rage, To puncture the still supplicating Sage. But while his Thoughts that fatal Stroke decree, Apollo interpos'd in form of Fee. The Chief great Pæan's golden Tresses knew, He own'd the God, and his rais'd Arm withdrew.

Thus often at the Temple-Stairs we've seen Two Tritons of a rough Athletick Mien, Sourly dispute some Quarrel of the Flood, With Knuckles bruis'd, and Face besmear'd in Blood; But at the first Appearance of a Fare, Both quit the Fray, and to their Oars repair.

The Heroe so his Enterprize recalls, His Fist unclenches, and the Weapon falls.

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