Flash on thy bard, and with exalting fires
Touch the mysterious lip, that chaunts thy praise
In strains to mortal sons of earth unknown.
Behold an engine, wrought from tawny mines
Of ductile clay, with plastic[18] virtue form’d,
And glaz’d magnifick o’er, I grasp, I fill.
From Pætotheke[19] with pungent pow’rs perfum’d,
Itself[20] one tortoise all, where shines imbib’d
Each parent ray; then rudely ram’d illume,
With the red touch of zeal-enkindling sheet,