The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey With Some Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, By his son, John Anstey |
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey |  |
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Verse 1.—Though I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
Him, who each good, each perfect gift bestows,
With knowledge to exalt my feeble mind,
Bright as e'er shed its lustre on mankind;
Though on my lips persuasive accents hung,
Soft as the music of an angel's tongue,
Still should I languish, still my soul despair,
Wert thou, sweet Charity, a stranger there;
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To deeds of heroes, or the pomp of kings,
Vain as the tinkling cymbal, that displays
Man's gaudy pride—but not th'Almighty's praise.—
| The Poetical Works of the late Christopher Anstey | |