SIDNEY WHARTON TO THE WORLD.
(1805.)
If I could have my will, the sun should freeze,
And this huge earth spin on, for ever blind,
With all the bones of beasts and of mankind,
And sapless petrifactions of the trees;
While through the lifeless plains and rigid seas,
With its triumphant dirge, the howling wind,
The only moving thing still left behind,
Should sweep the desert like an organ's keys.
Out on this tossing theatre of shame,
In which the gorgeous curtain of the dawn,
All painted o'er with trembling crocus-flame,
Is raised each day on slaves that bite and fawn,
And play their endless heart-benumbing game,
Year in, year out, Dishonour's countless spawn!
