Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454947" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode VI: To William Hall, Esquire: With The Works Of Chaulieu</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre;<br>While, fluent as the sky-lark sings<br>When first the morn allures it's wings,<br>The epicure his theme pursues:<br>And tell me if, among the choir<br>Whose music charms the banks of Seine,<br>So full, so free, so rich a strain<br>E'er dictated the warbling Muse?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>Yet, Hall, while thy judicious ear<br>Admires the well-dissembled art<br>That can such harmony impart<br>To the lame pace of Gallic rhymes;<br>While wit from affectation clear,<br>Bright images, and passions true,<br>Recall to thy assenting view<br>The envied bards of nobler times;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>Say, is not oft his doctrine wrong?<br>This priest of pleasure, who aspires<br>To lead us to her sacred fires,<br>Knows he the ritual of her shrine?<br>Say (her sweet influence to thy song<br>So may the goddess still afford)<br>Doth she consent to be ador'd<br>With shameless love and frantic wine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. <br>Nor Cato, nor Chrysippus here<br>Need we in high indignant phrase<br>From their Elysian quiet raise;<br>But pleasure's oracle alone<br>Consult; attentive, not severe.<br>O pleasure, we blaspheme not thee;<br>Nor emulate the rigid knee<br>Which bends but at the Stoic throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>We own had fate to man assign'd<br>Nor sense, nor wish but what obey<br>Or Venus soft or Bacchus gay,<br>Then might our bard's voluptuous creed<br>Most aptly govern human kind:<br>Unless perchance what he hath sung<br>Of tortur'd joints and nerves unstrung,<br>Some wrangling heretic should plead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.<br>But now with all these proud desires<br>For dauntless truth and and honest fame;<br>With that strong master of our frame,<br>The inexorable judge within,<br>What can be done? Alas, ye fires<br>Of love; alas, ye rosy smiles,<br>Ye nectar'd cups from happier soils,<br>—Ye have no bribe his grace to win.</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=454947" data-title="Ode VI: To William Hall, Esquire: With The Works Of Chaulieu de Mark Akenside" data-description="I.
Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre;
While, fluent as the sky-lark sings
When first the morn allures it's wings,
The epicure his theme pursues:
And tell me if, among the choir
Whose music charms the banks of Seine,
So full, so free, so rich a stra..."></div>
</div>
</div>