Let rosy laughter now advance,
And wit with sparkling eye,
Where quaint powers lurking lie
Bright fancy, the queen of the revels, shall dance,
And point to the frolicsome train
And antic forms that flit unnumbered o’er the plain.
O sovereign master! at whose sole command
We start with terror, or with pity weep;
O! where is now thy all-creating wand?
Buried ten thousand fathoms in the deep.