Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. Written on a Blank Leaf of Dugdales MonasticonThomas Warton (17281790)
D
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.
Think’st 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 mouldering 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.