Sonnet: Written in a Blank Leaf of Dugdale's " Monasticon "
Deem not devoid of elegance the Sage,
By Fancy's genuine feelings unbeguiled,
Of painful Pedantry the poring child;
Who turns, of these proud domes, the historic page,
Now sunk by Time, and Henry's fiercer rage.
Thinkst thou the warbling Muses never smiled
On his lone hours? Ingenuous views engage
His thoughts, on themes, unclassic falsely styled,
Intent. While cloistered Piety displays
Her moldering roll, the piercing eye explores
New manners, and the pomp of elder days,
Whence culls the pensive bard his pictured stores.
Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways
Of hoar Antiquity, but strewn with flowers.
By Fancy's genuine feelings unbeguiled,
Of painful Pedantry the poring child;
Who turns, of these proud domes, the historic page,
Now sunk by Time, and Henry's fiercer rage.
Thinkst thou the warbling Muses never smiled
On his lone hours? Ingenuous views engage
His thoughts, on themes, unclassic falsely styled,
Intent. While cloistered Piety displays
Her moldering roll, the piercing eye explores
New manners, and the pomp of elder days,
Whence culls the pensive bard his pictured stores.
Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways
Of hoar Antiquity, but strewn with flowers.
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