The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton |  |
LXI.
[Cel.]Oh honour, honour, what is by thee hanne?
Happy the robber and the bordelyer,
Who knows thee not, or is to thee bestanne,
And nothing does thy mickle terror fear;
Fain would I from my bosom all thee tear.
Thou there dost scatter wide thy lightning-brand;
When withered is my soul, thou art the gare;
Slain is my comfort by thy fiery hand;
As some tall hill, when winds do shake the ground,
It carveth all abroad, by bursting secret wound.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton | |