THE GODLIKE

(1820)

In one great man we view with odds
A parallel to all the gods.
Great Jove, that shook heaven with his brow,
Could never match his princely bow.
In him a Bacchus we behold:
Like Bacchus, too, he ne'er grows old.
Like Phoebus next, a flaming lover;
And then he's Mercury--all over.
A Vulcan, for domestic strife,
He lamely lives without his wife.
And sure--unless our wits be dull--
Minerva-like, when moon was full,
He issued from paternal skull.




THE THREE GRAVES

(1820)

Close by the ever-burning brimstone beds
Where Bedloe, Oates and Judas, hide their heads,
I saw great Satan like a Sexton stand
With his intolerable spade in hand,
Digging three graves. Of coffin shape they were,