Classic Poem

Satyric Muse! let me prevail
On thee to picture D — le:
Fierce, as the surly northern Gale,
Is proud, contemptuous D — le;
What makes the Artist rot in Jail?
Trusting the base-born D — le;
The Rose-cheek'd Nymph turns wan, and pale,
Touch'd by infectious D — le;
Light Gossamer would turn the Scale,
Weigh'd 'gainst the Wit of D — le;
Nay, were thy Virtues put to sale,
A Mite o'er-rates them, D — le:
Honour and Equity shall fail,

E'er practised once by D — le;
For Hell may Charon hoist his Sail
O'er Styx , to wast curst D — le:
In short, my Subject now grows stale
I'm tired with Rhymes to D — le;
So were each Fault and Vice combin'd,
That e'er debas'd the human Mind;
To sum up all the black Detail,
I'd name the Scoundrel D — le.