Bacchanalia or A Description of a Drunken Club. A Poem [by Charles Darby] |
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Bacchanalia | ||
4
All things in medley, and confusion, run.
Words now, like Thieves in Interregnums, break
Their Prisons. All men hear, and all men speak:
Yet none another understands, nor yet
Himself a whit.
And, could some nimble-handed Scribe have writ
All that was said; Babel had been retriev'd,
And all her Tongues Reviv'd.
Yea more confus'd these Tongues, than Babel's, were:
They talkt of Towers on Earth, but these in Air.
Bacchanalia | ||