Religion poems/ page 8 of 35 /
When, lo, a mighty trump, one half conceal'd
In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd,
Shall pour a dreadful note; the piercing call
Shall rattle in the centre of the ball;
The' extended circuit of creation shake,
The living die with fear, the dead awake.
Our world believes it stabler if the soft
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears.
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom,
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites;
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom
The chasm between our passions and our wits!
The Famous Speech-Maker Of England Or Baron (Alias Barren) Lovels Charge At The Assizes At Exon, Ap
From London to Exon,
By special direction,
Came down the world's wonder,
Sir Salathiel Blunder,
"HOLD, Criticks cry-Erroneous are your Lays,
"Your Field was Satire, your Pursuit is Praise."
True, you Profound!-I praise, but yet I sneer;
You're dark to Beauties, if to Errors clear!
Know my Lampoon's in Panegyric seen,
For just Applause turns Satire on your Spleen.
That is a way, thou whisperest in my ear!
I doubt, I will decide, then act, said I
Then beckoned my companions: Time is come!