James Madison - The aerial Journey of the poet Laureat of the cliosophic Society

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The aerial Journey of the poet Laureat of the cliosophic Society

The rising sun his beams had shed
 
And each affrighted star had fled
 
When tuneful Spring in rural lays
 
Began to mourn his doleful case
 
New-englands sons4 around him came
 
And many a wanton ruddy dame
 
Who view’d him nigh a purling stream
 
Rais’d on a stump to sing his dream.
 
That very dream in which they say
 
His soul broke loose from mortal clay
 
And sought the muses dome on high
 
Resolv’d with all his art to try
 
To steal a spark of wit from thence
 
A scourge for whiggish impudence.
 
But hear the very words he spoke
 
As from his quivering lips they broke
 
“Hail gentle shepherds of the grove
 
Your flocks about this mead may rove
 
While you attend my mournful tale
 
And echo sounds it thro’ the vale
 
Soon as the lamp of day was gone
 
And evening shades oerspread the lawn
 
Tir’d with the business of the day
 
Down on the tender grass I lay.
 
When sleep had clos’d my slumbering eyes
 
I spurn’d the earth & peirc’d the skies
 
Thro’ unknown tracts of air I flew
 
And pas’d by worlds of various hue
 
Beseeching every thing to tell
 
The place on which the Muses dwell.
 
At length, when coasting thro’ the spheres
 
Apollo’s song invades my ears
 
With all the sweet harmonious nine
 
Whose warbling notes in concert join.
 
Then by degrees their domes I spy’d
 
Which blaz’d around on every side
 
Straight to apollo’s hall I went
 
Half dead with fear, my breath quite spent
 
Hoping somehow to lurk beneath
 
And rob him of a laurel wreath
 
And then a poet laureat rise
 
The dread of whigs of every size
 
But while I walk’d about the hall
 
apollo with the muses all
 
Came rushing in upon the thief
 
I cry’d in vain for some relief
 
The god of day provok’d to find
 
A villain of so base a mind
 
Seiz’d on a cudgel rough & great
 
& mash’d my jaws & crazy pate
 
Euterpe then a dishclout brought
 
With grease & boiling water fraught
 
And well [beswitched?]5 my sides & back
 
Which lost its hide at every whack
 
Urania threw a chamber pot
 
Which from beneath her bed she brought
 
And struck my eyes & ears & nose
 
Repeating it with lusty blows.
 
In such a pickle then I stood
 
Trickling on every side with blood
 
When Clio, ever grateful muse
 
Sprinkled my head with healing dews
 
Then took me to her private room
 
And straight an Eunuch out I come
 
My voice to render more melodious
 
A recompence for sufferings odious
 
She brought me to the earth again
 
And quel’d the Tumults of my brain
 
Softly wispering in my ear
 
While she dropt the parting tear
 
[‘]Dear friend accept this last behest
 
Conceal thy folly in thy breast
 
Forbear to write & only sing
 
And future sons shall talk of Spring
 
But mark me well if e’er you try
 
In poetry with Whigs to vie
 
Your nature’s bounds you then will pass
 
And be transformed into an ass[’]
 
Then brother shepherds pity Spring
 
Who dares not write but only sing—[”]
 
—When thus he finished his complaint
 
He quit the stump & off he went
 
But soon forgot what Clio said
 
And wrote an ode & then essay’d
 
to sing an hymn & lo! he bray’d
 
And now he stands an ass confess[ed]
 
Of every scribbling fool, the Jest
 
Alexander FreiAlexander Frei द्वारा रवि, 16/06/2019 - 22:55 को जमा किया गया
धन्यवाद!

 

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James Madison: टॉप 3
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