The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

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Little, Brown, 1854 - 452 pages

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Page 126 - She meditates the eternal depth below; Till half recoiling, down the headlong steep She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up In that immense of being. There her hopes Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said, That not in humble nor in brief delight, Not in the fading echoes of Renown, Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, The soul should find enjoyment: but from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, Through all the ascent of things...
Page 123 - Imagination's tender frame, From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul At length discloses every tuneful spring, To that harmonious movement from without Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, And vales of bliss...
Page 186 - With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn. Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings ; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd.
Page 237 - Wheeling unshaken through the void immense ; And speak, O man ! does this capacious scene With half that kindling majesty dilate Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail ? For lo ! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, And Rome again is free...
Page 187 - Refine at length, and every passion wears A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze On nature's form, where, negligent of all These lesser graces, she assumes the port Of that eternal majesty that...
Page 136 - Is aught so fair In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, In the bright eye of Hesper or the Morn, In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair As virtuous Friendship ? as the candid blush Of him who strives with fortune to be just ? The graceful tear that streams for others...
Page 184 - Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain Who journeys homeward from a summer day's Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils And due repose, he loiters to behold The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, O'er all the western sky ; full soon, I ween, His rude expression and untutor'd airs, Beyond the power of language, will unfold The form of beauty smiling at his heart...
Page 125 - And continents of sand, will turn his gaze To mark the windings of a scanty rill That murmurs at his feet ? The high-born soul Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing Beneath its native quarry.
Page 124 - Omnipotent might send him forth In sight of mortal and immortal powers, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice ; to exalt His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; To chase each partial purpose from his breast ; And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward, The applauding smile of heaven?
Page 11 - Saxon hands: 0 ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook The rocky pavement and the mossy falls Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; How gladly I recall your well-known seats Beloved of old, and that delightful time When all alone, for many a summer's day, 1 wander'd through your calm recesses, led In silence by some powerful hand unseen.

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