The Powers of the Pen A poem addressed to John Curre ... By E. Lloyd ... The second edition, with large additions |
 |
 | The Powers of the Pen |  |
In the dark Corners of the Room,
Natur'd to rankle in a Gloom,
(Of the true Pandæmonium Breed,
From Lucifer they had the Seed)
Huge Serpents fold their Train, and lurk,
Judges of each religious Work,
Whose Merit is discern'd by this—
If Orthodox, the Serpents hiss—
But when an Infidel comes in,
Atheist, or Deist, Friend to Sin,
Pleas'd, as in Sport, the Snakes unfold
The wreathings of their Necks of Gold;
And then the Critics know their Cue,
And with the Serpents' Taste review.
Natur'd to rankle in a Gloom,
(Of the true Pandæmonium Breed,
From Lucifer they had the Seed)
Huge Serpents fold their Train, and lurk,
Judges of each religious Work,
Whose Merit is discern'd by this—
If Orthodox, the Serpents hiss—
But when an Infidel comes in,
Atheist, or Deist, Friend to Sin,
58
The wreathings of their Necks of Gold;
And then the Critics know their Cue,
And with the Serpents' Taste review.
| The Powers of the Pen | |