The old Egyptians hid their wit

In hieroglyphic dress,

To give men pains to search for it,

And please themselves with guess.

Moderns, to tread the self same path

And exercise our parts,

Place figures in a room at Bath;

Forgive them, God of Arts!

Newton, if I can judge aright,

All wisdom doth express,

His knowledge gives mankind new light,

Adds to their happiness.

Pope is the emblem of true wit,

The sunshine of the mind;

Read o’er his works for proof of it,

You’ll endless pleasure find.

Nash represents man in the mass,

Made up of wrong and right;

Sometimes a knave, sometimes an ass,

Now blunt, and now polite.

The picture, plac’d the busts between,

Adds to the thought much strength,

Wisdom and Wit are little seen,

But Folly’s at full length.