Thence to the banks where reverend bards repose, They led him soft; each reverend bard arose; And Milbourn[337] chief, deputed by the rest, Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest. 350 'Receive (he said) these robes which once were mine, Dulness is sacred in a sound divine.' He ceased, and spread the robe; the crowd confess The reverend Flamen in his lengthen'd dress. Around him wide a sable army stand, A low-born, cell-bred, selfish, servile band, Prompt or to guard or stab, to saint or damn, Heaven's Swiss, who fight for any god, or man. Through Lud's famed gates,[338] along the well-known Fleet Rolls the black troop, and overshades the street, 360 Till showers of sermons, characters, essays, In circling fleeces whiten all the ways: So clouds replenish'd from some bog below, Mount in dark volumes, and descend in snow. Here stopp'd the goddess; and in pomp proclaims A gentler exercise to close the games. 'Ye critics! in whose heads, as equal scales, I weigh what author's heaviness prevails, Which most conduce to soothe the soul in slumbers, My Henley's periods, or my Blackmore's numbers, 370 Attend the trial we propose to make: If there be man, who o'er such works can wake, Sleep's all-subduing charms who dares defy, And boasts Ulysses' ear with Argus' eye; To him we grant our amplest powers to sit Judge of all present, past, and future wit; To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong, Full and eternal privilege of tongue.' Three college Sophs, and three pert Templars came, The same their talents, and their tastes the same; 380 Each prompt to query, answer, and debate, And smit with love of poesy and prate. The ponderous books two gentle readers bring; The heroes sit, the vulgar form a ring. The clamorous crowd is hush'd with mugs of mum, Till all, tuned equal, send a general hum. Then mount the clerks, and in one lazy tone Through the long, heavy, painful page drawl on; Soft creeping, words on words, the sense compose, At every line they stretch, they yawn, they doze. 390 As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low Their heads, and lift them as they cease to blow, Thus oft they rear, and oft the head decline, As breathe, or pause, by fits, the airs divine; And now to this side, now to that they nod, As verse or prose infuse the drowsy god. Thrice Budgell aim'd to speak,[339] but thrice suppress'd By potent Arthur, knock'd his chin and breast. Toland and Tindal,[340] prompt at priests to jeer, Yet silent bow'd to Christ's no kingdom here.[341] 400 Who sate the nearest, by the words o'ercome, Slept first; the distant nodded to the hum. Then down are roll'd the books; stretch'd o'er 'em lies Each gentle clerk, and, muttering, seals his eyes, As what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes, One circle first, and then a second makes; What Dulness dropp'd among her sons impress'd Like motion from one circle to the rest; So from the midmost the nutation spreads Round and more round, o'er all the sea of heads.