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Obliging all, you fear no harm
From Disappointment’s angry arm,
No cudgels, sneers, or libels;
Alike you smile on worst and best,
From great Rubens and Quaker West,
To wooden cuts for Bibles.

Lo! next the Gallic thunderbolt,
Some nameless, shapeless, ugly dolt,
His plastic phiz advances;
And vestal footsteps lightly tread,
And Cupids sport around the head
Of gentle Doctor Francis.

While placed on high exalted pegs,
Apollo blushes for his legs,
And mourns his severed fingers;
Some amorous wight, with passion drunk,
O’er Cytherea’s headless trunk
Luxuriously lingers.

Here Danaë rolls her humid eyes
To meet the ruler of the skies
In tricks that please old Satan;
And there our eyes delighted trace
The scarlet coat and lily face
Of gallant Captain Creighton.⁷¹