Mark Akenside

“ Man of Thebes appears:
For some there are, whose mighty frame
The hand of Jove at birth indow'd
With hopes that mock the gazing crowd;
As eagles drink the noontide flame,
While the dim raven beats his weary wings,
And clamours far below.——Propitious Muse,
While I so late unlock thy hallow'd springs,
And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse,
To polish Albion's warlike ear
This long-lost melody to hear,
Thy sweetest arts imploy;
As when the winds from shore to shore,
Thro' Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore,
Till towns, and isles, and seas return'd the vocal joy. ”

“ The fields resign their chearful bloom;
No more the breezes waft perfume,
No more the warbling waters roll:
Desarts of snow fatigue the eye,
Black storms involve the louring sky,
And gloomy damps oppress the soul. ”

“ To her of old by Jove was giv'n
To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n;
'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.
Oft as from stricter hours resign'd
I quit the maze where science toils,
Do thou refresh my yielding mind
With all thy gay, delusive spoils.
But, O indulgent, come not nigh
The busy steps, the jealous eye
Of gainful care and wealthy age,
Whose barren souls thy joys disdain,
And hold as foes to reason's reign
Whome'er thy lovely haunts ingage. ”

“ And wakes to sprighther thoughts the painful poet's blood.
⁠With looks so frosty, and with steps so tame,
⁠Ye careful nymphs, ye household things, adieu;
⁠Not once ye taught me love's or friendship's flame,
⁠And where is he that ever taught it you?
⁠And ye, the sloe-ey'd fathers of the land,
⁠With whom dominion lurks from hand to hand,
⁠Unown'd, undignify'd by public choice,
⁠I go where freedom in the streets is known,
⁠And tells a monarch on his throne,
⁠Tells him he reigns, he lives but by her voice. ”

“ While mute and shrinking with her fears,
Each blast the cottage-matron hears
As o'er the hearth she sits alone:
At morn her bridegroom went abroad,
The night is dark and deep the road;
She sighs and wishes him at home. ”

“ The hints of horror seize your ear;
⁠While gleams of lost delight
Raise the deep discord of the brain,
As light'ning shines along the main
⁠Thro' whirlwinds and thro' night.
No more can faith or candor move ”

“ Then wherefore should she give you care?
Lay, lay your myrtle garland down,
And let the willow's virgin-crown
With happier omens bind your hair.
O just escap'd the faithless main,
Tho' driven unwilling on the land! ”

“ While the green hedge, below, the golden slope divides?
⁠Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove,
⁠Ye blue-ey'd sisters of the streams,
⁠With whom I wont at morn to rove,
⁠With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams ”

“ But leaves with scorn to others' use
The bitter hemlock's baneful juice,
The nettle's sordid sting.
From all which nature fairest knows,
The vernal blooms, the summer rose,
She draws her mingled wealth ”

“ Or to the trembling sire his age's hope restor'd.
↑ After Timoleon had deliver'd Syracuse from the tyranny of Dionysius, the people on every important deliberation sent for him into the public assembly, ask'd his advice, and voted according to his decision.⁠Plutarch. ”