Authors the world and their dull brains have traced To fix the ground where Paradise was placed; Mind not their learned whims and idle talk; Here, here's the place where these bright angels walk.
1 Lest you should think that verse shall die, Which sounds the silver Thames along, Taught, on the wings of truth to fly Above the reach of vulgar song;
Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, To mountain wolves and all the savage race, Wide o'er th' aerial vault extend thy sway, And o'er th' infernal regions void of day....
What, and how great, the virtue and the art To live on little with a cheerful heart; (A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine) Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine;...
I. To one fair lady out of Court, And two fair ladies in, Who think the Turk and Pope a sport, And wit and love no sin! Come, these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,...
The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings, I sing. Say you, her instruments the great! Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and Fate;...
But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd, On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd. Him close she curtains round with Vapours blue, And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew....
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night! Of darkness visible so much be lent, As half to show, half veil, the deep intent. Ye pow'rs! whose mysteries restor'd I sing,...