Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's beams, In lucent words my darkling verses dight, And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams,...
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of war, Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb; Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands, And casts them out upon the darken'd earth! Prepare, prepare! ...
When silver snow decks Susan's clothes, And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose, The blushing bank is all my care, With hearth so red, and walls so fair; `Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,...
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming, In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,...
The Sun arises in the East, Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold; Swords and spears and wrath increast All around his bosom roll'd Crown'd with warlike fires and raging desires.