Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/49

 Midas the praise hath gain'd of lengthen'd ears,
 * For which himself might deem him ne'er the worse

To sit in council with his modern peers
 * And judge of tinkling rhymes and elegances terse.

And thou, Mercurius, that with winged bow
 * Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,

And thro' Heaven's halls thy airy flight dost throw,
 * Entering with holy feet to where on high
 * Jove weighs the counsel of futurity;

Then, laden with eternal fate, dost go
 * Down, like a falling star, from autumn sky,
 * And o'er the surface of the silent deep dost fly.

If thou arrivest at the sandy shore
 * Where nought but envious hissing adders dwell,

Thy golden rod, thrown on the dusty floor,
 * Can charm to harmony with potent spell;

Such is sweet Eloquence, that does dispel Envy and Hate, that thirst for human gore;
 * And cause in sweet society to dwell
 * Vile savage minds that lurk in lonely cell.

O Mercury, assist my labouring sense
 * That round the circle of the world would fly,

As the wing'd eagle scorns the towery fence
 * Of Alpine hills round his high aëry,
 * And searches through the corners of the sky,