Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux

“ As soon as Fear lent them the use of Feet
Away they trudge, fill’d with shame and Regret ;
The Nave they soon recover ; whil’st their hair
Stands bristling on their heads, dissolving fear
Makes their Knees quiver underneath their Bodies,
And there they sneaking stand like baffled Noddies,
Sheltred by the same Darkness brought them thither,
The Squadron flies at last, they knew not whither. ”

“ My Masters, A-la-mort ? time’s precious !
Why stand we trembling, trifling, shall I, shall I ?
Our work’s before us, let’s no longer dally !
The Pulpit must be rais’, that by to morrow
Our Dean may see’t with Joy, his Foes with Sorrow ! ”

“ Run from one paultry Owl ? ne’re look about you !
Where are those boasts which late breath’d nought but Thunder ?
Fie ! Shall a harmless Bird disperse y’ asunder ?
How would you sneak, vilce Souls, if at the Barr,
My daily sport, you met with horrid Warr ?
How would you stand a tedious Chanc’ry Hearing,
If poor Hobhowchin puts you in this fearing ?
Hw would your hearts misgive to bide a Triall,
No Friend at Hand, nor in your Purse a Ryall ?
Believe me ( Cowards ! ) I, with Grace be’t spoken,
Simply thô I stand here, have foil’d and broken
A Chapter, with her Chanons, Prebends, Dean ”