 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
283
SILENUS LOOKING AT A GOBLET.
Where is the Necromancer? Let him bring
His treasury of charms—rich syrups—herbs
Gather'd in eclipse, or where shooting stars
Sow earth with pearl: or let him call his sprites,
Till the air thickens, and the golden noon,
Smote by their wings, is turn'd to sudden night.
This goblet's worth all magic.
His treasury of charms—rich syrups—herbs
Gather'd in eclipse, or where shooting stars
Sow earth with pearl: or let him call his sprites,
Till the air thickens, and the golden noon,
Smote by their wings, is turn'd to sudden night.
This goblet's worth all magic.
Of its draught
Let sorrow taste, anon, the lifeless lip
Glows crimson; sullen Poverty is rich;
The bondsman's chain is light as gossamer;
The lover's eye, long dim with wasting tears,
Shines brightly, and sees kneeling for a look
The tyrant Beauty; Age is warm'd to Youth;
Lean Avarice hoards no more; and crouching Fear
Stalks giant-like: the fretted brows of kings
Forget the feverish pressure of a crown,
And taste as pleasant slumber as the slave's,
That toils for't in the sun.
Let sorrow taste, anon, the lifeless lip
Glows crimson; sullen Poverty is rich;
The bondsman's chain is light as gossamer;
The lover's eye, long dim with wasting tears,
Shines brightly, and sees kneeling for a look
The tyrant Beauty; Age is warm'd to Youth;
284
Stalks giant-like: the fretted brows of kings
Forget the feverish pressure of a crown,
And taste as pleasant slumber as the slave's,
That toils for't in the sun.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |