Samuel Butler

A degenerate nobleman, or one that is proud of his birth, is like
a turnip. There is nothing good read more

A degenerate nobleman, or one that is proud of his birth, is like
a turnip. There is nothing good of him but that which is
underground.

Some force whole regions, in despite
O' geography, to change their site;
Make former times shake hands read more

Some force whole regions, in despite
O' geography, to change their site;
Make former times shake hands with latter,
And that which was before come after;
But those that write in rhyme still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
I think's sufficient at one time.

This was the penn'worth of his thought.

This was the penn'worth of his thought.

Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!

Ay me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!

The moon pull'd off her veil of light,
That hides her face by day from sight
(Mysterious read more

The moon pull'd off her veil of light,
That hides her face by day from sight
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made,)
That's both her lustre and her shade),
And in the lantern of the night,
With shining horns hung out her light.