Thou mighty Bard! aye, perhaps, though a Peer! Who with thy "Lady Muse" dost walk; And with the Angels and the Stars dost talk, When the Moon rises and the night is clear; Oh! deign to smile propitious on my verse, While I in joyous numbers do rehearse Thy praises ev'n unto the fourteenth line! For all that BYRON has, or e'er shall write, Is "darkness visible" to thy "Moonlight;" His verse is plain simplicity to thine. His Muse, indeed, with thine pretend to cope? As well might Blackmore be compared to Pope! No! let Lord BYRON chime his Eastern lies; Th' immortal THURLOW thunders to the skies! London, Feb. 6, 1814.
"With Angels let us talk and with the Stars." MOONLIGHT. "His speech were plain simplicity to theirs." MOONLIGHT. "Th' immortal Regent thunders to the sky." SONNET TO THE PRINCE REGENT.
