His face with smile eternal drest,Just like the Landlord’s to his Guest’s,High as they hang with creaking din,To index out the Country Inn.He looked just as your sign-post Lions do,With aspect fierce, and quite as harmless too.
A head, pure, sinless quite of brain and soul,The very image of a barber’s Poll;It shews a human face, and wears a wig,And looks, when well preserv’d, amazing big.