 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton
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Recitative.
In his wooden palace jumping,
Tearing, sweating, bawling, thumping,
“Repent, repent, repent,”
The mighty Whitefield cries,
Oblique light'ning in his eyes,
“Or die and be damn'd!” all around
The long-eared rabble grunt in dismal sound,
“Repent, repent, repent,”
Each concave mouth replies.
The comet of gospel, the lanthorn of light,
Is rising and shining
Like candles at night.
He shakes his ears,
He jumps, he stares;
Hark, he's whining!
The short-hand saints prepare to write,
And high they mount their ears.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton
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