This Sort Of Adoration Of The Real

Yet Truth Will Sometimes Lend Her Noblest Fires, And Decorate The Verse Herself Inspires: This Fact, In Virtue's Name, Let Crabbe Attest,- Though Nature's Sternest Painter, Yet The Best.

Glory, Like The Phoenix 'midst Her Fires, Exhales Her Odours, Blazes, And Expires.

Time Strips Our Illusions Of Their Hue, And One By One In Turn, Some Grand Mistake Casts Off Its Bright Skin Yearly Like The Snake.

Self-love For Ever Creeps Out, Like A Snake, To Sting Anything Which Happens To Stumble Upon It.

But There Are Wanderers O'er Eternity Whose Bark Drives On And On, And Anchor'd Ne'er Shall Be.