Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Copy
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454958" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode XIII: On Lyric Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. 1.<br>Once more I join the Thespian choir,<br>And taste the inspiring fount again:<br>O parent of the Grecian lyre,<br>Admit me to thy powerful strain—<br>And lo, with ease my step invades<br>The pathless vale and opening shades,<br>Till now I spy her verdant seat;<br>And now at large i drink the sound,<br>While these her offspring, listening round,<br>By turns her melody repeat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. 2.<br>I see Anacreon smile and sing,<br>His silver tresses breathe perfume;<br>His cheek displays a second spring<br>Of roses taught by wine to bloom.<br>Away, deceitful cares, away,<br>And let me listen to his lay;<br>Let me the wanton pomp injoy,<br>While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours<br>Lead round his lyre it's patron powers,<br>Kind laughter and convivial joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. 3.<br>Broke from the fetters of his native land,<br>Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords,<br>With louder impulse and a threatening hand<br>The Lesbian patriot smites the sounding chords:<br>Ye wretches, ye perfidious train,<br>Ye curs'd of gods and freeborn men,<br>Ye murderers of the laws,<br>Though now ye glory in your lust,<br>Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust,<br>Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. 1.<br>But lo, to Sappho's melting airs<br>Descends the radiant queen of love:<br>She smiles, and asks what fonder cares<br>Her suppliant's plaintive measures move:<br>Why is my faithful maid distress'd?<br>Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast?<br>Say, flies he?—Soon he shall pursue:<br>Shuns he thy gifts—He soon shall give:<br>Slights he thy sorrows?—He shall grieve,<br>And soon to all thy wishes bow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. 2.<br>But, o Melpomene, for whom<br>Awakes thy golden shell again?<br>What mortal breath shall e'er presume<br>To echo that unbounded strain?<br>Majestic in the frown of years,<br>Behold, the man of Thebes appears:<br>For some there are, whose mighty frame<br>The hand of Jove at birth indow'd<br>With hopes that mock the gazing crowd;<br>As eagles drink the noontide flame,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. 3.<br>While the dim raven beats her weary wings,<br>And clamours far below.—Propitious Muse,<br>While I so late unlock thy purer springs,<br>And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse,<br>Wilt thou for Albion's sons around<br>(Ne'er had'st thou audience more renown'd)<br>Thy charming arts imploy,<br>As when the winds from shore to shore<br>Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore,<br>Till towns and isles and seas return'd the vocal joy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III. 1.<br>Yet then did pleasure's lawless throng,<br>Oft rushing forth in loose attire,<br>Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song<br>Pollute with impious revels dire.<br>O fair, o chaste, thy echoing shade<br>May no soul discord here invade:<br>Nor let thy strings one accent move,<br>Except what earth's untroubled ear<br>'Mid all her social tribes may hear,<br>And heaven's unerring throne approve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III. 2.<br>Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat<br>The fairest flowers of Pindus glow;<br>The vine aspires to crown thy seat,<br>And myrtles round thy laurel grow.<br>Thy strings adapt their varied strain<br>To every pleasure, every pain,<br>Which mortal tribes were born to prove;<br>And strait our passions rise or fall,<br>As at the wind's imperious call<br>The ocean swells, the billows move.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III. 3.<br>When midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth,<br>Let me, o Muse, thy solemn whispers hear:<br>When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth,<br>With airy murmurs touch my opening ear.<br>And ever watchful at thy side,<br>Let wisdom's awful suffrage guide<br>The tenor of thy lay:<br>To her of old by Jove was given<br>To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven;<br>'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. 1.<br>Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd,<br>I quit the maze where science toils,<br>Do thou refresh my yielding mind<br>With all thy gay, delusive spoils.<br>But, o indulgent, come not nigh<br>The busy steps, the jealous eye<br>Of wealthy care or gainful age;<br>Whose barren souls thy joys disdain,<br>And hold as foes to reason's reign<br>Whome'er thy lovely works engage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. 2.<br>When friendship and when letter'd mirth<br>Haply partake my simple board,<br>Then let thy blameless hand call forth<br>The music of the Teian chord.<br>Or if invok'd at softer hours,<br>O! seek with me the happy bowers<br>That hear Olympia's gentle tongue;<br>To beauty link'd with virtue's train,<br>To love devoid of jealous pain,<br>There let the Sapphic lute be strung.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. 3.<br>But when from envy and from death to claim<br>A hero bleeding for his native land;<br>When to throw incense on the vestal flame<br>Of liberty my genius gives command,<br>Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre<br>From thee, o Muse, do I require;<br>While my presaging mind,<br>Conscious of powers she never knew,<br>Astonish'd grasps at things beyond her view,<br>Nor by another's fate submits to be confin'd.</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=454958" data-title="Ode XIII: On Lyric Poetry de Mark Akenside" data-description="I. 1. Once more I join the Thespian choir, And taste the inspiring fount again: O parent of the Grecian lyre, Admit me to thy powerful strain— And lo, with ease my step invades The pathless vale and opening shades, Till now I spy her verdant sea..."></div> </div> </div>
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black