The Powers of the Pen A poem addressed to John Curre ... By E. Lloyd ... The second edition, with large additions |
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 | The Powers of the Pen |  |
Yet be not Thou, Castalian Maid,
Of their infernal Spleen afraid;
Laugh them to Scorn—the Critic-train
Shall throw their venom'd Darts in vain;
For Malice, tho' a Giant grown,
By just Contempt is overthrown—
Of their infernal Spleen afraid;
Laugh them to Scorn—the Critic-train
Shall throw their venom'd Darts in vain;
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By just Contempt is overthrown—
And now, fair Mountain Nymph, adieu!
Hie thee to join light Dian's Crew!—
But from the Taint of Town first lave
Thy Tresses in a Chrystal Wave;
Then to the Fountain, Grove, or Rill,
To tend the Goddess of the Hill.
Hie thee to join light Dian's Crew!—
But from the Taint of Town first lave
Thy Tresses in a Chrystal Wave;
Then to the Fountain, Grove, or Rill,
To tend the Goddess of the Hill.
| The Powers of the Pen | |