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“Tho' each great ancient court thee to his shrine, “Tho' ev'ry laurel thro' the dome
be thine, “Go to the good and just, an awful train! “Thy soul's delight. Recorded in
like manner for his virtuous disposition, and gentle bearing, by the ingenious.
Now flam'd the Dog-star's unpropitious ray, Io Smote ev'ry Brain, and wither'd ev'
ry Bay; Sick was the Sun, the Owl forsook his bow'r, The moon-struck Prophet felt
the madding hour: Then rose the Seed of Chaos, and of Night, To blot out Order ...
A heavy Lord shall hang at ev'ry Wit, And while on Fame's triumphal Car they ride
, * ... Some Slave of mine be pinion'd to their side. 135 Now crowds on crowds
around the Goddess press, - Each eager to present the first Address. " . o Dunce
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - lizpatanders - LibraryThing
On the whole, I did enjoy reading this poem, although I found it very difficult to read. I've heard before that it's very hard to comprehend the first time around, and I would have to agree. Although ... Read full review