Though roused by that dark Vizir Riot rude Have driven our Priestley o'er the ocean swell; Though Superstition and her wolfish brood Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell; Calm in his halls of brightness he shall dwell! For lo! Religion at his strong behest Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, And flings to earth her tinsel-glittering vest, Her mitred state and cumbrous pomp unholy; And Justice wakes to bid the Oppressor wail Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly: And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won Meek Nature slowly lifts her matron veil To smile with fondness on her gazing son! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY PRETTY ROSE TREE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THOMAS MACDONAGH by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE BEN JONSON ENTERTAINS A MAN FROM STRATFORD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON CHORUS OF CLOUD-MAIDENS: STROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES ON THE VIRGINITY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AND JOHANNA SOUTHCOTT by WILLIAM BLAKE |