Proud of our lyric Galaxy

[ZaunköniG]

Proud of our lyric Galaxy, I hear
Of faded Genius with supreme disdain;
As when we see the Miser bend insane
O'er his full coffers, and in accents drear
Deplore imagin'd want;--and thus appear
To me those moody Censors, who complain,
As [1]Shaftsbury plain'd in a now boasted reign,
That "POESY had left our darken'd sphere."
Whence may the present stupid dream be traced
That now she shines not as in days foregone?
Perchance neglected, often shine in waste
Her LIGHTS, from number into confluence run,
More than when thinly in th' horizon placed
Each Orb shone separate, and appear'd a Sun.

[ZaunköniG]

SUBJECT CONTINUED

You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow
Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light
Perceive ye in rapt POESY, tho' bright
In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow
From jewel'd treasures in the central night
Of their deep caves.--You have no Sun to show
Their inborn radiance pure.--Go, Snarlers, go;
Nor your defects of feeling, and of sight,
To charge upon the POET thus presume,
Ye lightless minds, whate'er of title proud,
Scholar, or Sage, or Critic, ye assume,
Arraigning his high claims with censure loud,
Or sickly scorn; yours, yours is all the cloud,
Gems cannot sparkle in the midnight Gloom.