On his imperial throne of burnished gold,
And polished ivory, which sparkling shone,
With gems innumerable, of various hues,
That shed a blaze of streaming radiance round
The gorgeous hall, the haughty monarch sat.”
Antediluvians, page 29.
And so on diluting the idea of Milton into a dozen more lines, and shewing, at once, the grandeur of the model, and the feebleness of the imitation. Yet Dr. McHenry calls himself a poet, and pretends to the divine afflatus. But again:
“Such scenes of cruelty and blood,
Exhibited before appalled Heaven,
To make the angels weep, to look on earth!”