James Thomson (1)

At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each read more

At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each smooth as those that mutually deceive,
And for their falsehood each despising each.

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge,
The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark,
A read more

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge,
The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark,
A moving radiance twinkles.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

Their only labour was to kill the time;
And labour dire it is, and weary woe,
They read more

Their only labour was to kill the time;
And labour dire it is, and weary woe,
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme,
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering steps and slow.

The glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.

The glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.