POEMS OLD AND NEW

In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
While words of learned length and thund'ring sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around.
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame. The very spot,
Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

THE TIGER
TIGER ! Tiger I burning bright •
In the forests of the night, 10
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes ?
On what wings dare he aspire ?
What the hand dare seize the fire ?
And what shoulder, and what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart ?
And, when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand forged thy dread feet ? 20
What the hammer ? what the chain ?
In what furnace was thy brain ?
What the anvil ? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp ?
When the stars threw down their spears.
And water9 d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see ?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee ?
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