The gatherd storme is rype; the bigge drops falle;The forswat meadowes smethe, and drenche the raine;The comyng ghastness do the cattle pall,And the full flockes are drivynge ore the plaine;Dashde from the cloudes the waters flott againe;The welkin opes; the yellow levynne flies;And the hot fierie smothe in the wide lowings dies.
The nesh yonge coweslip bendethe wyth the dewe.Thomas Chatterton
Almighty Framer of the Skies!O let our pure devotion rise,Like Incense in thy Sight!Wrapt in impenetrable Shade,The Texture of our Souls were made,Till thy Command gave Light.Thomas Chatterton
How shall we celebrate the day,When God appeared in mortal clay,The mark of worldly scorn;When the Archangel's heavenly Lays,Attempted the Redeemer's Praise,And hail'd Salvation's Morn!Thomas Chatterton
Happy (if mortals can be) is the man,Who, not by priest but Reason, rules his span:Reason, to its possessor a sure guide,Reason, a thorn in Revelation’s side.Thomas Chatterton
Liste! now the thunder's rattling clymmynge soundCheves slowlie on, and then embollen clangs,Shakes the hie spyre, and losst, dispended, drown'd,Still on the gallard eare of terroure hanges;The windes are up; the lofty elmen swanges;Again the levynne and the thunder poures,And the full cloudes are braste attenes in stonen showers.Thomas Chatterton
Here take this silver, it maie eathe thie care;We are Goddes stewards all, nete of oure owne we bare.Thomas Chatterton
Yun daiseyd mantels ys the mountayne dyghte.Thomas Chatterton
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