<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454931" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode I: The Preface</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>On yonder verdant hilloc laid,<br>Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade,<br>O'erlook the falling stream,<br>O master of the Latin lyre,<br>Awhile with thee will i retire<br>From summer's noontide beam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>And, lo, within my lonely bower,<br>The industrious bee from many a flower<br>Collects her balmy dews:<br>“For me,” she sings, “the gems are born,<br>“For me their silken robe adorn,<br>“Their fragrant breath diffuse.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>Sweet murmurer! may no rude storm<br>This hospitable scene deform,<br>Nor check thy gladsome toils;<br>Still may the buds unsullied spring,<br>Still showers and sunshine court thy wing<br>To these ambrosial spoils.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>Nor shall my Muse hereafter fail<br>Her fellow-labourer thee to hail;<br>And lucky be the strains!<br>For long ago did nature frame<br>Your seasons and your arts the same,<br>Your pleasures and your pains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>Like thee, in lowly, sylvan scenes,<br>On river-banks and flowery greens<br>My Muse delighted plays;<br>Nor through the desart of the air,<br>Though swans or eagles triumph there,<br>With fond ambition strays.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI. <br>Nor where the boding raven chaunts,<br>Nor near the owl's unhallow'd haunts<br>Will she her cares imploy;<br>But flies from ruins and from tombs,<br>From superstition's horrid glooms,<br>To day-light and to joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.<br>Nor will she tempt the barren waste;<br>Nor deigns the lurking strength to taste<br>Of any noxious thing;<br>But leaves with scorn to envy's use<br>The insipid nightshade's baneful juice,<br>The nettle's sordid sting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII.<br>From all which nature fairest knows,<br>The vernal blooms, the summer rose,<br>She draws her blameless wealth;<br>And, when the generous task is done,<br>She consecrates a double boon,<br>To pleasure and to health.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mark+Akenside">Mark Akenside</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454931" data-title="Ode I: The Preface de Mark Akenside" data-description="I. On yonder verdant hilloc laid, Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, O'erlook the falling stream, O master of the Latin lyre, Awhile with thee will i retire From summer's noontide beam. II. And, lo, within my lonely bower, The industrious bee..."></div> </div> </div>

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