The spring on which his actions turn; Whose aim in erring, is to err, So that he may be singular, And all his utmost wishes mean Is, though he's laugh'd at, to be seen: 550 Such, (for when Flattery's soothing strain Had robb'd the Muse of her disdain, And found a method to persuade Her art to soften every shade, Justice, enraged, the pencil snatch'd From her degenerate hand, and scratch'd Out every trace; then, quick as thought, From life this striking likeness caught) In mind, in manners, and in mien, Such Whiffle came, and such was seen 560 In the world's eye; but (strange to tell!) Misled by Fancy's magic spell, Deceived, not dreaming of deceit, Cheated, but happy in the cheat, Was more than human in his own. Oh, bow, bow all at Fancy's throne, Whose power could make so vile an elf With patience bear that thing, himself. But, mistress of each art to please, Creative Fancy, what are these, 570 These pageants of a trifler's pen, To what thy power effected then? Familiar with the human mind, And swift and subtle as the wind, Which we all feel, yet no one knows, Or whence it comes, or where it goes, Fancy at once in every part Possess'd the eye, the head, the heart, And in a thousand forms array'd, A thousand various gambols play'd. 580 Here, in a face which well might ask The privilege to wear a mask In spite of law, and Justice teach For public good to excuse the breach, Within the furrow of a wrinkle 'Twixt eyes, which could not shine but twinkle, Like sentinels i' th' starry way, Who wait for the return of day, Almost burnt out, and seem to keep Their watch, like soldiers, in their sleep; 590 Or like those lamps, which, by the power Of law,[257] must burn from hour to hour, (Else they, without redemption, fall Under the terrors of that Hall,[258] Which, once notorious for a hop, Is now become a justice shop) Which are so managed, to go out Just when the time comes round about, Which yet, through emulation, strive To keep their dying light alive, 600 And (not uncommon, as we find, Amongst the children of mankind) As they grow weaker, would seem stronger, And burn a little, little longer: Fancy, betwixt such eyes enshrined, No brush to daub, no mill to grind, Thrice waved her wand around, whose force Changed in an instant Nature's course, And, hardly credible in rhyme, Not only stopp'd, but call'd back Time; 610 The face of every wrinkle clear'd, Smooth as the floating stream appear'd, Down the neck ringlets spread their flame, The neck admiring whence they came; On the arch'd brow the Graces play'd; On the full bosom Cupid laid; Suns, from their proper orbits sent, Became for eyes a supplement; Teeth, white as ever teeth were seen, Deliver'd from the hand of Green, 620 Started, in regular array,