Isis, in whom the poets' feigning wit Figures the goddess of authority, And makes her on an ass in triumph sit, As if power's throne were man's humility, Inspire this ass, as well becoming it, Even like a type of windblown vanity, With pride to bear power's gilding, scorching heat For no hire, but opinion to be great. So as this beast, forgetting what he bears, Bridled and burdened by the hand of might, While he beholds the swarms of hope and fears, Which wait upon ambition infinite, Proud of the glorious furniture he wears, Takes all to Isis offered, but his right, Till weariness, the spur, or want of food, Makes gilded curbs of all beasts understood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLY, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON A HOUSE by JOHN COLLINGS SQUIRE THE THIRD OF FEBRUARY, 1852 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS by WALT WHITMAN |