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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454956" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode XII: On Recovering From A Fit Of Sickness, In the Country</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's hill,<br>Once more i seek, a languid guest:<br>With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast<br>Once more i climb thy steep aerial way.<br>O faithful cure of oft-returning ill,<br>Now call thy sprightly breezes round,<br>Dissolve this rigid cough profound,<br>And bid the springs of life with gentler movement play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>How gladly 'mid the dews of dawn<br>My weary lungs thy healing gale,<br>The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale!<br>How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove<br>Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn,<br>Awak'd i stop, and look to find<br>What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind,<br>Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>Now, ere the morning walk is done,<br>The distant voice of health i hear<br>Welcome as beauty's to the lover's ear.<br>“Droop not, nor doubt of my return,” she cries;<br>“Here will i, 'mid the radiant calm of noon,<br>“Meet thee beneath yon chesnut bower,<br>“And lenient on thy bosom pour<br>“That indolence divine which lulls the earth and skies.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>The goddess promis'd not in vain.<br>I found her at my favorite time.<br>Nor wish'd to breathe in any softer clime,<br>While (half-reclin'd, half-slumbering as i lay)<br>She hover'd o'er me. Then, among her train<br>Of nymphs and zephyrs, to my view<br>Thy gracious form appear'd anew,<br>Then first, o heavenly Muse, unseen for many a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>In that soft pomp the tuneful maid<br>Shone like the golden star of love.<br>I saw her hand in careless measures move;<br>I heard sweet preludes dancing on her lyre,<br>While my whole frame the sacred sound obey'd.<br>New sunshine o'er my fancy springs,<br>New colours clothe external things,<br>And the last glooms of pain and sickly plaint retire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.<br>O Goulder's hill, by thee restor'd<br>Once more to this inliven'd hand,<br>My harp, which late resounded o'er the land<br>The voice of glory, solemn and severe,<br>My Dorian harp shall now with mild accord<br>To thee her joyful tribute pay,<br>And send a less-ambitious lay<br>Of friendship and of love to greet thy master's ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.<br>For when within thy shady seat<br>First from the sultry town he chose,<br>And the tir'd senate's cares, his wish'd repose,<br>Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home<br>For social leisure: where my welcome feet,<br>Estrang'd from all the intangling ways<br>In which the restless vulgar strays,<br>Through nature's simple paths with ancient faith might roam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII.<br>And while around his sylvan scene<br>My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours,<br>Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers<br>Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk<br>The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green:<br>And oft did Tully's reverend shade,<br>Though much for liberty afraid,<br>With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX.<br>But other guests were on their way,<br>And reach'd erelong this favor'd grove;<br>Even the celestial progeny of Jove,<br>Bright Venus, with her all-subduing son,<br>Whose golden shaft most willingly obey<br>The best and wisest. As they came,<br>Glad Hymen wav'd his genial flame,<br>And sang their happy gifts, and prais'd their spotless throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X.<br>I saw when through yon festive gate<br>He led along his chosen maid,<br>And to my friend with smiles presenting said;<br>“Receive that fairest wealth which heaven assign'd<br>“To human fortune. Did thy lonely state<br>“One wish, one utmost hope confess?<br>“Behold, she comes, to adorn and bless:<br>“Comes, worthy of thy heart, and equal to thy mind.”</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>
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Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's hill,
Once more i seek, a languid guest:
With throbbing temples and with burden'd breast
Once more i climb thy steep aerial way.
O faithful cure of oft-returning ill,
Now call thy sprightly breezes round,
Dissolv..."></div>
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