COME, sportive Fancy ! Come with me, and trace
The POET’S Attic home ! The lofty seat
Of th’ Heaven-tutor’d Nine ! The airy throne
Of bold Imagination, rapture-fraught,
Above the herd of mortals !–All around,
A solemn stillness seems to guard the scene,
Nursing the brood of thought; a thriving brood,
In the rich mazes of the cultur’d brain.
Upon thy altar, an old worm-eat board,
The pannel of a broken door, or lid
Of a strong coffer, plac’d on three-legg’d stool,
Stand quires of paper, white and beautiful;
Paper, by Destiny ordain’d to be
Scrawl’d o’er and blotted, dash’d and scratch’d, and torn,
Or mark’d with lines severe, or scatter’d wide
In rage impetuous ! Sonnet, Song, and Ode;
Satire, and Epigram, and smart Charade;
Neat Paragraph, or legendary Tale
Of short and simple metre; each by turns
Will there delight the reader.
On the bed
Lies an old rusty “suit of solemn black,”
Brush’d thread-bare, and with brown unglossy hue
Grown rather ancient. On the floor is seen
A pair of silken hose, whose footing bad
Shews they are travellers, but who still bear
Marks somewhat holy . At the scanty fire
A chop turns round; by packthread strongly held;
And on the blackened bar a vessel shines
Of batter’d pewter, just half-fill’d, and warm,
With Whitbread’s beverage pure. The kitten purs,
Anticipating dinner; while the wind
Whistles through broken panes, and drifted snow
Carpets the parapet with spotless garb
Of vestal coldness.–Now the sullen hour
(The fifth hour after noon) with dusky hand
Closes the lids of day. The farthing light
Gleams through the cobweb’d chamber, and THE BARD
Concludes his pen’s hard labour. Now he eats
With appetite voracious ! Nothing sad
That the costly plate, nor the napkin fine,
Nor china rich, nor sav’ry viands greet
His eye, or palate. On his lyric board
A sheet of paper serves for table-cloth;
A heap of salt is serv’d (Oh ! heav’nly treat),
On Ode Pindaric ! while his tuneful Puss
Scratches his slipper, for her fragment sweet,
And sings her love-song, soft, yet mournfully.
Mocking the pillar Doric, or the roof
Of architecture Gothic, all around
The well-known ballads flit, of Grub-street fame !
The casement broke gives breath celestial
To the long “Dying Speech ,” or gently fans
The love-enflaming Sonnet. ‘Round about
Small scraps of paper lie, torn vestiges
Of an unquiet fancy: here a page
Of flights poetic; here a Dedication;
A list of Dramatis Person
(Mary Elizabeth Robinson)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Beauty Poems, Money & Wealth Poems, Literature Poems, Anger Poems, Poets Poems, Brain Poems, Imagination & Visualization Poems, Labor Poems, Will & Determination PoemsBased on Keywords: epigram, cultur, vestiges, purs, dramatis, charade, thread-bare, table-cloth, pindaric, grub-street, pannel