An uniform to boys is like a fan
To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet
But deems himself the firs in Glory's van.
But Glory's glory; and if you would fin
What that is—ask the pig who sees the wind!
At least he feels it, and some say he sees,
Because he runs before it like a pig;
Or, if that simple sentence should displease,
Say, that he scuds before it like a brig,
A schooner, or—but it is time to ease
This Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue.