32
LE LUTRIN
Canto 4.
Attend I say! (I tremble whil'st I'm speaking,)
The weighty Reasons of my poor heart breaking!
God Morpheus long before the peep of day,
Had lockt my Senses up with leaden Key
In second sleep; when dulcid fumes and vapours,
In Fancies Cell, disport in frolick Capers;
Methought I sat enthroned in the Quire,
Where crowds of Choristers my Grace admire;
There blest the gawping throng; there Incense sweet,
Stolne from the Saints, my pleased Senses meet,
When from the bottom of the Vestry came
A Prodigy too terrible to name;
From Dusky Clouds (methought) of wreathed Smoak
Wide opening, A Hideous Monster broke,
Whose Mouth, Eyes, Nostrils, vomit flame, fume, fire,
How pale look'd all the Choristers i'th' Quire!
Him the proud Prelate dragg'd along in Chains,
Tame like a broken Colt, with Bit and Reins;
But, that which struck us all more than half dead,
A Pulpit issued from the Dragons Head.
Horripilation seiz'd me! my flesh quiver'd!
My loins relax'd with dismal horror shiver'd!
We all conclude from the Sulphureous smell,
Dragon and Pulpit both must come from Hell;
Led by his Guide, the Monster doth aspire
Unto my Seat, there plac'd himself i'th' Quire.
Think! think, my Ganymede, how was I appalled
To see the Horrid Fiend thus high installed;
I scriecht in vain, in vain I fled the Fury!
This I'le depose, is Truth before a Jury!
But here the Chaunter paws'd: he judg'd it best
To let his Eyes and Looks speak out the rest.
Girot essay'd to comfort him in vain;
This Vision, Sir! perhaps might rise from pain
The weighty Reasons of my poor heart breaking!
God Morpheus long before the peep of day,
Had lockt my Senses up with leaden Key
In second sleep; when dulcid fumes and vapours,
In Fancies Cell, disport in frolick Capers;
Methought I sat enthroned in the Quire,
Where crowds of Choristers my Grace admire;
There blest the gawping throng; there Incense sweet,
Stolne from the Saints, my pleased Senses meet,
When from the bottom of the Vestry came
A Prodigy too terrible to name;
From Dusky Clouds (methought) of wreathed Smoak
Wide opening, A Hideous Monster broke,
Whose Mouth, Eyes, Nostrils, vomit flame, fume, fire,
How pale look'd all the Choristers i'th' Quire!
Him the proud Prelate dragg'd along in Chains,
Tame like a broken Colt, with Bit and Reins;
But, that which struck us all more than half dead,
A Pulpit issued from the Dragons Head.
Horripilation seiz'd me! my flesh quiver'd!
My loins relax'd with dismal horror shiver'd!
We all conclude from the Sulphureous smell,
Dragon and Pulpit both must come from Hell;
Led by his Guide, the Monster doth aspire
Unto my Seat, there plac'd himself i'th' Quire.
Think! think, my Ganymede, how was I appalled
To see the Horrid Fiend thus high installed;
I scriecht in vain, in vain I fled the Fury!
This I'le depose, is Truth before a Jury!
But here the Chaunter paws'd: he judg'd it best
To let his Eyes and Looks speak out the rest.
Girot essay'd to comfort him in vain;
This Vision, Sir! perhaps might rise from pain
In
