Page:The castle of Indolence - an allegorical poem - Written in imitation of Spenser (IA castleofindolenc00thomiala).pdf/25

XXXII.

Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low Despair,

Thou Imp of Jove, touch'd by celestial Fire!
Thou yet shalt sing of War, and Actions fair,
Which the bold Sons of Britain will inspire;
Of ancient Bards thou yet shalt sweep the Lyre;
Thou yet shalt tread in Tragic Pall the Stage,
Paint Love's enchanting Woes, the Heroe's Ire,
The Sage's Calm, the Patriot's noble Rage,
Dashing Corruption down through every worthless Age.

XXXIII.

The Doors, that knew no shrill alarming Bell,

Ne cursed Knocker ply'd by Villain's Hand,
Self-open'd into Halls, where, who can tell
What Elegance and Grandeur wide expand
The Pride of Turkey and of Persia Land?
Soft Quilts on Quilts, on Carpets Carpets spread,
And Couches stretch around in seemly Band;
And endless Pillows rise to prop the Head;
So that each spacious Room was one full-swelling Bed.

XXXIV.