<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454973" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The Second</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When shall the laurel and the vocal string<br>Resume their honours? When shall we behold<br>The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan hand<br>Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint,<br>How slow the dawn of beauty and of truth<br>Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night<br>Which yet involve the nations! Long they groan'd<br>Beneath the furies of rapacious force;<br>Oft as the gloomy north, with iron-swarms<br>Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves,<br>Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works<br>Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph<br>Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd<br>In noon-tide darkness by the glimmering lamp,<br>Each muse and each fair science pin'd away<br>The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands<br>Their mysteries profan'd, unstrung the lyre,<br>And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth.<br>At last the muses rose, and spurn'd their bonds,<br>And wildly warbling, scatter'd, as they flew,<br>Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers<br>Arno's myrtle border and the shore of soft Parthenope. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still the rage of dire ambition and gigantic power,<br>From public aims and from the busy walk<br>Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train<br>Of penetrating science to the cells,<br>Where studious ease consumes the silent hour<br>In shadowy searches and unfruitful care.<br>Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts<br>Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy,<br>To priestly domination and the lust<br>Of lawless courts, their amiable toil<br>For three inglorious ages have resign'd,<br>In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue<br>Was tun'd for slavish pæans at the throne<br>Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand<br>Effus'd its fair creation to enchant<br>The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes<br>To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks<br>The sable tyrant plants his heel secure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now behold! the radiant æra dawns,<br>When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length<br>For endless years on Albion's happy shore<br>In full proportion, once more shall extend<br>To all the kindred powers of social bliss<br>A common mansion, a parental roof.<br>There shall the virtues, there shall wisdom's train,<br>Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old,<br>Embrace the smiling family of arts,<br>The muses and the graces. Then no more<br>Shall vice, distracting their delicious gifts<br>To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn<br>Turn from their charms the philosophic eye,<br>The patriot-bosom; then no more the paths<br>Of public care or intellectual toil,<br>Alone by footsteps haughty and severe<br>In gloomy state be trod: the harmonious Muse<br>And her persuasive sisters then shall plant<br>Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent,<br>And scatter flowers along the rugged way.<br>Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dar'd<br>To pierce divine philosophy's retreats,<br>And teach the Muse her lore; already strove<br>Their long-divided honours to unite,<br>While tempering this deep argument we sang<br>Of truth and beauty. Now the same glad task<br>Impends; now urging our ambitious toil,<br>We hasten to recount the various springs<br>Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin<br>Their grateful influence to the prime effect<br>Of objects grand or beauteous, and inlarge<br>The complicated joy. The sweets of sense,<br>Do they not oft with kind accession flow,<br>To raise harmonious fancy's native charm?<br>So while we taste the fragrance of the rose,<br>Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view<br>Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill<br>Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst<br>Of summer yielding the delicious draught<br>Of cool refreshment; o'er the mossy brink<br>Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves<br>With sweeter music murmur as they flow?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor this alone; the various lot of life<br>Oft from external circumstance assumes<br>A moment's disposition to rejoice<br>In those delights which at a different hour<br>Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of spring,<br>When rural songs and odours wake the morn,<br>To every eye; but how much more to his<br>Round whom the bed of sickness long diffus'd<br>Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,<br>When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales<br>The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun<br>Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life<br>Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or shall i mention, where cœlestial truth<br>Her awful light discloses, to bestow<br>A more majestic pomp on beauty's frame?<br>For man loves knowledge, and the beams of truth<br>More welcome touch his understanding's eye,<br>Than all the blandishments of sound his ear,<br>Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet<br>The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues<br>To me have shone so pleasing, as when first<br>The hand of science pointed out the path<br>In which the sun-beams gleaming from the west<br>Fall on the watry cloud, whose darksome veil<br>Involves the orient; and that trickling shower<br>Piercing through every crystalline convex<br>Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd,<br>Recoil at length where concave all behind<br>The internal surface of each glassy orb<br>Repells their forward passage into air;<br>That thence direct they seek the radiant goal<br>From which their course began; and, as they strike<br>In different lines the gazer's obvious eye,<br>Assume a different lustre, through the brede<br>Of colours changing from the splendid rose<br>To the pale violet's dejected hue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or shall we touch that kind access of joy,<br>That springs to each fair object, while we trace<br>Through all its fabric, wisdom's artful aim<br>Disposing every part, and gaining still<br>By means proportion'd her benignant end?<br>Speak, ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps<br>The lamp of science through the jealous maze<br>Of nature guides, when haply you reveal<br>Her secret honours: whether in the sky,<br>The beauteous laws of light, the central powers<br>That wheel the pensile planets round the year;<br>Whether in wonders of the rowling deep,<br>Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth,<br>Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense,<br>Ye scan the counsels of their author's hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What, when to raise the meditated scene,<br>The flame of passion, through the struggling soul<br>Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze<br>The object of its rapture, vast of size,<br>With fiercer colours and a night of shade?<br>What? like a storm from their capacious bed<br>The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might<br>Of these eruptions, working from the depth<br>Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame<br>Even to the base; from every naked sense<br>Of pain or pleasure dissipating all<br>Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil<br>Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times<br>To hide the feeling heart? Then nature speaks<br>Her genuine language, and the words of men,<br>Big with the very motion of their souls,<br>Declare with what accumulated force,<br>The impetuous nerve of passion urges on<br>The native weight and energy of things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet more: her honours where nor beauty claims,<br>Nor shews of good the thirsty sense allure,<br>From passion's power alone our nature holds<br>Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse<br>Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies<br>Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers<br>Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew<br>By that collision all the fine machine:<br>Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees<br>Incumbering, choak at last what heaven design'd<br>For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.<br>—But say, does every passion thus to man<br>Administer delight? That name indeed<br>Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes<br>The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand<br>Of admiration: but the bitter shower<br>That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave,<br>But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear,<br>Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart<br>Of panting indignation, find we there<br>To move delight?—Then listen while my tongue<br>The unalter'd will of heaven with faithful awe<br>Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach<br>My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd<br>Within his learned mind whate'er the schools<br>Of wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice,<br>O faithful nature! dictate of the laws<br>Which govern and support this mighty frame<br>Of universal being. Oft the hours<br>From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away,<br>While mute attention hung upon his lips,<br>As thus the sage his awful tale began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas in the windings of an ancient wood,<br>When spotless youth with solitude resigns<br>To sweet philosophy the studious day,<br>What time pale autumn shades the silent eve,<br>Musing i rov'd. Of good and evil much,<br>And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd;<br>When starting full on fancy's gushing eye<br>The mournful image of Parthenia's fate,<br>That hour, o long belov'd and long deplor'd!<br>When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts,<br>Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow,<br>Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears<br>Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave;<br>Thy agonizing looks, thy last farewel<br>Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul<br>As with the hand of death. At once the shade<br>More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds<br>With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark<br>As midnight storms, the scene of human things<br>Appear'd before me; desarts, burning sands,<br>Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south,<br>And desolation blasting all the west<br>With rapine and with murder: tyrant power<br>Here sits enthron'd with blood; the baleful charms<br>Of superstition there infect the skies,<br>And turn the sun to horror. Gracious heaven!<br>What is the life of man? Or cannot these,<br>Not these portents thy awful will suffice?<br>That, propagated thus beyond their scope,<br>They rise to act their cruelties anew<br>In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed<br>The universal sensitive of pain,<br>The wretched heir of evils not its own!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus I impatient; when, at once effus'd,<br>A flashing torrent of cœlestial day<br>Burst through the shadowy void. With slow descent<br>A purple cloud came floating through the sky,<br>And pois'd at length within the circling trees,<br>Hung obvious to my view; till opening wide<br>Its lucid orb, a more than human form<br>Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head,<br>And instant thunder shook the conscious grove.<br>Then melted into air the liquid cloud,<br>And all the shining vision stood reveal'd.<br>A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound,<br>And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee,<br>Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist<br>Collected with a radiant zone of gold<br>Æthereal: there in mystic signs ingrav'd,<br>I read his office high and sacred name,<br>Genius of human kind. Appall'd i gaz'd<br>The godlike presence; for athwart his brow<br>Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern,<br>Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words<br>Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vain are thy thoughts, o child of mortal birth!<br>And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span<br>Capacious of this universal frame?<br>Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas!<br>Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord<br>Of nature and his works? to lift thy voice<br>Against the sovran order he decreed,<br>All good and lovely? to blaspheme the bands<br>Of tenderness innate and social love,<br>Holiest of things! by which the general orb<br>Of being, as by adamantine links,<br>Was drawn to perfect union and sustain'd<br>From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs<br>Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal<br>So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish<br>The ties of nature broken from thy frame;<br>That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart<br>Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then<br>The wretched heir of evils not its own?<br>O fair benevolence of generous minds!<br>O man by nature form'd for all mankind!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spoke; abash'd and silent i remain'd,<br>As conscious of my tongue's offence, and aw'd<br>Before his presence, though my secret soul<br>Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground<br>I fix'd my eyes; till from his airy couch<br>He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand<br>My dazling forehead, Raise thy sight, he cry'd<br>And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look'd, and lo! the former scene was chang'd;<br>For verdant alleys and surrounding trees,<br>A solitary prospect, wide and wild,<br>Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas an horrid pile<br>Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd,<br>With many a sable cliff and glittering stream.<br>Aloft recumbent o'er the hanging ridge,<br>The brown woods wav'd; while ever-trickling springs<br>Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine<br>The crumbling soil; and still at every fall<br>Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock,<br>Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods<br>With hoarser inundation; till at last<br>They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts<br>Of that high desart spread her verdant lap,<br>And drank the gushing moisture, where confin'd<br>In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale<br>Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils<br>Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn,<br>Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-incircling mound<br>As in a sylvan theatre inclos'd<br>That flowery level. On the river's brink<br>I spy'd a fair pavilion, which diffus'd<br>Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade<br>Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd<br>Between two parting cliffs his golden orb,<br>And pour'd across the shadow of the hills,<br>On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light<br>That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers<br>Were aw'd, and every thought in silence hung,<br>And wondering expectation. Then the voice<br>Of that cœlestial power, the mystic show<br>Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Inhabitant of earth, to whom is given<br>The gracious ways of providence to learn,<br>Receive my sayings with a stedfast ear—<br>Know then, the sovran spirit of the world,<br>Though self-collected from eternal time,<br>Within his own deep essence he beheld<br>The bounds of true felicity complete;<br>Yet by immense benignity inclin'd<br>To spread around him that primæval joy<br>Which fill'd himself, he rais'd his plastic arm,<br>And sounded through the hollow depth of space<br>The strong, creative mandate. Strait arose<br>These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life<br>Effusive kindled by his breath divine<br>Through endless forms of being. Each inhal'd<br>From him its portion of the vital flame,<br>In measure such, that, from the wide complex<br>Of coexistent orders, one might rise,<br>One order, all-involving and intire.<br>He too beholding in the sacred light<br>Of his essential reason, all the shapes<br>Of swift contingence, all successive ties<br>Of action propagated through the sum<br>Of possible existence, he at once,<br>Down the long series of eventful time,<br>So fix'd the dates of being, so dispos'd,<br>To every living soul of every kind<br>The field of motion and the hour of rest,<br>That all conspir'd to his supreme design,<br>To universal good: with full accord<br>Answering the mighty model he had chosen,<br>The best and fairest of unnumber'd worlds<br>That lay from everlasting in the store<br>Of his divine conceptions. Nor content,<br>By one exertion of creative power<br>His goodness to reveal; through every age,<br>Through every moment up the tract of time<br>His parent-hand with ever-new increase<br>Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd<br>The vast harmonious frame: his parent-hand,<br>From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore,<br>To men, to angels, to cœlestial minds<br>For ever leads the generations on<br>To higher scenes of being; while supply'd<br>From day to day with his enlivening breath,<br>Inferior orders in succession rise<br>To fill the void below. As flame ascends,<br>As bodies to their proper center move,<br>As the pois'd ocean to the attracting moon<br>Obedient swells, and every headlong stream<br>Devolves its winding waters to the main;<br>So all things which have life aspire to God,<br>The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd,<br>Center of souls! Nor does the faithful voice<br>Of nature cease to prompt their eager steps<br>Aright; nor is the care of heaven withheld<br>From granting to the task proportion'd aid;<br>That in their stations all may persevere<br>To climb the ascent of being, and approach<br>For ever nearer to the life divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn<br>Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene<br>Paint in thy fancy the primæval seat<br>Of man, and where the will supreme ordain'd<br>His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffus'd<br>Along the shady brink; in this recess<br>To wear the appointed season of his youth,<br>Till riper hours should open to his toil<br>The high communion of superior minds,<br>Of consecrated heroes and of gods.<br>Nor did the sire omnipotent forget<br>His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld<br>Cœlestial footsteps from his green abode.<br>Oft from the radiant honours of his throne,<br>He sent whom most he lov'd, the sovran fair,<br>The effluence of his glory, whom he plac'd<br>Before his eyes for ever to behold;<br>The goddess from whose inspiration flows<br>The toil of patriots, the delight of friends;<br>Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth,<br>Nought lovely, nought propitious comes to pass,<br>Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the sire<br>Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind,<br>The folded powers to open, to direct<br>The growth luxuriant of his young desires,<br>And from the laws of this majestic world<br>To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph<br>Her daily care attended, by her side<br>With constant steps her gay companion stay'd,<br>The fair Euphrosyné, the gentle queen<br>Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights<br>That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men<br>And powers immortal. See the shining pair!<br>Behold, where from his dwelling now disclos'd<br>They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood<br>Between two radiant forms a smiling youth<br>Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower<br>Of beauty; sweetest innocence illum'd<br>His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow<br>Sate young simplicity. With fond regard<br>He view'd the associates, as their steps they mov'd;<br>The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd,<br>With mild regret invoking her return.<br>Bright as the star of evening she appear'd<br>Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth<br>O'er all her form its glowing honours breath'd;<br>And smiles eternal from her candid eyes<br>Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn<br>Effusive trembling on the placid waves.<br>The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils<br>To bind her sable tresses: full diffus'd<br>Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze;<br>And in her hand she wav'd a living branch<br>Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm<br>The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes,<br>To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime<br>The heavenly partner mov'd. The prime of age<br>Compos'd her steps. The presence of a god,<br>High on the circle of her brow inthron'd,<br>From each majestic motion darted awe,<br>Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks<br>Benevolent and meek, confiding love<br>To filial rapture soften'd all the soul.<br>Free in her graceful hand she pois'd the sword<br>Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown<br>Display'd the old simplicity of pomp<br>Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe,<br>White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds,<br>Her stately form invested. Hand in hand<br>The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green,<br>Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light<br>Gleam'd round their path; cœlestial sounds were heard,<br>And through the fragrant air æthereal dews<br>Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds<br>Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew<br>Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse<br>Of empyréan flame, where spent and drown'd,<br>Afflicted vision plung'd in vain to scan<br>What object it involv'd. My feeble eyes<br>Indur'd not. Bending down to earth i stood,<br>With dumb attention. Soon a female voice,<br>As watry murmurs sweet, or warbling shades,<br>With sacred invocation thus began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm<br>With reins eternal guides the moving heavens,<br>Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well-pleas'd<br>I seek to finish thy divine decree.<br>With frequent steps I visit yonder seat<br>Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds<br>Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve<br>The latent honours of his generous frame;<br>Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot<br>From earth's dim scene to these æthereal walks,<br>The temple of thy glory. But not me,<br>Not my directing voice he oft requires,<br>Or hears delighted: this inchanting maid,<br>The associate thou hast given me, her alone<br>He loves, o Father! absent, her he craves;<br>And but for her glad presence ever join'd,<br>Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes<br>This thy benignant purpose to fulfil,<br>I deem uncertain; and my daily cares<br>Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee<br>Still farther aided in the work divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She ceas'd; a voice more awful thus reply'd.<br>O thou! in whom for ever i delight,<br>Fairer than all the inhabitants of heaven,<br>Best image of thy author! far from thee<br>Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame;<br>Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil,<br>And no resistance find. If man refuse<br>To hearken to thy dictates; or allur'd<br>By meaner joys, to any other power<br>Transfer the honours due to thee alone;<br>That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste,<br>That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold.<br>Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil;<br>Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend<br>Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold!<br>With thee the son of Nemesis i send;<br>The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account<br>Of sacred order's violated laws.<br>See where he calls thee, burning to be gone,<br>Fierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath<br>On yon devoted head. But thou, my child,<br>Controul his cruel phrenzy, and protect<br>Thy tender charge; that when despair shall grasp<br>His agonizing bosom, he may learn,<br>Then he may learn to love the gracious hand<br>Alone sufficient in the hour of ill,<br>To save his feeble spirit; then confess<br>Thy genuine honours, o excelling fair!<br>When all the plagues that wait the deadly will.<br>Of this avenging dæmon, all the storms<br>Of night infernal, serve but to display<br>The energy of thy superior charms<br>With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage,<br>And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here ceas'd that awful voice, and soon i felt<br>The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve<br>Was clos'd once more, from that immortal fire<br>Sheltering my eye-lids. Looking up, i view'd<br>A vast gigantic spectre striding on<br>Through murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds,<br>With dreadful action. Black as night his brow<br>Relentless frowns involv'd. His savage limbs<br>With sharp impatience violent he writh'd,<br>As through convulsive anguish; and his hand,<br>Arm'd with a scorpion-lash, full oft he rais'd<br>In madness to his bosom; while his eyes<br>Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook<br>The void with horror. Silent by his side<br>The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd<br>Her features. From the glooms which hung around<br>No stain of darkness mingled with the beam<br>Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop<br>Upon the river-bank; and now to hail<br>His wonted guests, with eager steps advanc'd<br>The unsuspecting inmate of the shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long<br>Had rang'd the Alpine snows, by chance at morn<br>Sees from a cliff incumbent o'er the smoke<br>Of some lone village, a neglected kid<br>That strays along the wild for herb or spring;<br>Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain,<br>And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage,<br>The monster sprung remorseless on his prey.<br>Amaz'd the stripling stood: with panting breast<br>Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail<br>Of helpless consternation, struck at once,<br>And rooted to the ground. The queen beheld<br>His terror, and with looks of tenderest care<br>Advanc'd to save him. Soon the tyrant felt<br>Her awful power. His keen, tempestuous arm<br>Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage<br>Had aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retir'd<br>With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovran maid<br>Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy,<br>Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek;<br>Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O wake thee, rouze thy spirit! Shall the spite<br>Of yon tormentor thus appall thy heart,<br>While i, thy friend and guardian, am at hand<br>To rescue and to heal? O let thy soul<br>Remember, what the will of heaven ordains<br>Is ever good for all; and if for all,<br>Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth<br>And soothing sunshine of delightful things,<br>Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled<br>By that bland light, the young unpractis'd views<br>Of reason wander through a fatal road,<br>Far from their native aim: as if to lye<br>Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait<br>The soft access of ever-circling joys,<br>Were all the end of being. Ask thyself,<br>This pleasing error did it never lull<br>Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refus'd<br>The silken fetters of delicious ease?<br>Or when divine Euphrosyné appear'd<br>Within this dwelling, did not thy desires<br>Hang far below the measure of thy fate,<br>Which i reveal'd before thee? and thy eyes,<br>Impatient of my counsels, turn away<br>To drink the soft effusion of her smiles?<br>Know then, for this the everlasting sire<br>Deprives thee of her presence, and instead,<br>O wise and still benevolent! ordains<br>This horrid visage hither to pursue<br>My steps; that so thy nature may discern<br>Its real good, and what alone can save<br>Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill<br>From folly and despair. O yet belov'd!<br>Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm<br>Thy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rage<br>Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault,<br>While i am here to vindicate thy toil,<br>Above the generous question of thy arm.<br>Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong,<br>This hour he triumphs: but confront his might,<br>And dare him to the combat, then with ease<br>Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns<br>To bondage and to scorn: while thus inur'd<br>By watchful danger, by unceasing toil,<br>The immortal mind, superior to his fate,<br>Amid the outrage of external things,<br>Firm as the solid base of this great world,<br>Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds!<br>Ye waves! ye thunders! rowl your tempest on;<br>Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire<br>Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene,<br>The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck;<br>And ever stronger as the storms advance,<br>Firm through the closing ruin holds his way,<br>Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So spake the goddess; while through all her frame<br>Cœlestial raptures flow'd, in every word,<br>In every motion kindling warmth divine<br>To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift<br>As lightening fires the aromatic shade<br>In Æthiopian fields, the stripling felt<br>Her inspiration catch his fervid soul,<br>And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then let the trial come! and witness thou,<br>If terror be upon me; if i shrink<br>To meet the storm, or faulter in my strength<br>When hardest it besets me. Do not think<br>That i am fearful and infirm of soul,<br>As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast chang'd<br>My nature; thy commanding voice has wak'd<br>My languid powers to bear me boldly on,<br>Where'er the will divine my path ordains<br>Through toil or peril: only do not thou<br>Forsake me; o be thou for ever near,<br>That i may listen to thy sacred voice,<br>And guide by thy decrees my constant feet.<br>But say, for ever are my eyes bereft?<br>Say, shall the fair Euphrosyné not once<br>Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven!<br>O thou eternal arbiter of things!<br>Be thy great bidding done: for who am i,<br>To question thy appointment? Let the frowns<br>Of this avenger every morn o'ercast<br>The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp<br>With double night my dwelling; i will learn<br>To hail them both, and unrepining bear<br>His hateful presence: but permit my tongue<br>One glad request, and if my deeds may find<br>Thy awful eye propitious, o restore<br>The rosy-featur'd maid; again to cheer<br>This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spoke; when instant through the sable glooms<br>With which that furious presence had involv'd<br>The ambient air, a flood of radiance came<br>Swift as the lightening flash; the melting clouds<br>Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene<br>Euphrosyné appear'd. With sprightly step<br>The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn,<br>And to her wondering audience thus began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo! i am here to answer to your vows,<br>And be the meeting fortunate! i come<br>With joyful tidings; we shall part no more—<br>Hark! how the gentle echo from her cell<br>Talks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream<br>Repeats the accents; we shall part no more.<br>O my delightful friends! well-pleas'd on high<br>The father has beheld you, while the might<br>Of that stern foe with bitter trial prov'd<br>Your equal doings; then for ever spake<br>The high decree: that thou, cœlestial maid!<br>Howe'er that griesly phantom on thy steps<br>May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more<br>Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man,<br>Alone endure the rancour of his arm,<br>Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyné behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She ended; and the whole romantic scene<br>Immediate vanish'd; rocks, and woods, and rills,<br>The mantling tent, and each mysterious form<br>Flew like the pictures of a morning dream,<br>When sun-shine fills the bed. A while i stood<br>Perplex'd and giddy; till the radiant power<br>Who bade the visionary landscape rise,<br>As up to him i turn'd, with gentlest looks<br>Preventing my enquiry, thus began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint<br>How blind, how impious! There behold the ways<br>Of heaven's eternal destiny to man,<br>For ever just, benevolent and wise:<br>That virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursu'd<br>By vexing fortune and intrusive pain,<br>Should never be divided from her chaste,<br>Her fair attendant, pleasure. Need i urge<br>Thy tardy thought through all the various round<br>Of this existence, that thy softening soul<br>At length may learn what energy the hand<br>Of virtue mingles in the bitter tide<br>Of passion swelling with distress and pain,<br>To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops<br>Of cordial pleasure? Ask the faithful youth,<br>Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd<br>So often fills his arms; so often draws<br>His lonely footsteps at the silent hour,<br>To pay the mournful tribute of his tears?<br>O! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds<br>Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego<br>That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise<br>Of care and envy, sweet remembrance sooths<br>With virtue's kindest looks his aking breast,<br>And turns his tears to rapture.—Ask the croud<br>Which flies impatient from the village-walk<br>To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below<br>The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast<br>Some helpless bark; while sacred pity melts<br>The general eye, or terror's icy hand<br>Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair;<br>While every mother closer to her breast<br>Catches her child, and pointing where the waves<br>Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud<br>As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms<br>For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge,<br>As now another, dash'd against the rock,<br>Drops lifeless down: o! deemest thou indeed<br>No kind endearment here by nature given<br>To mutual terror and compassion's tears?<br>No sweetly-melting softness which attracts,<br>O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers<br>To this their proper action and their end?<br>—Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour,<br>Slow through that studious gloom thy pausing eye<br>Led by the glimmering taper moves around<br>The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs<br>Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame<br>For Grecian heroes, where the present power<br>Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page,<br>Even as a father blessing, while he reads<br>The praises of his son. If then thy soul,<br>Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days,<br>Mix in their deeds and kindle with their flame;<br>Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view,<br>When rooted from the base, heroic states<br>Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown<br>Of curst ambition; when the pious band<br>Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires,<br>Lie side by side in gore; when ruffian pride<br>Usurps the throne of justice, turns the pomp<br>Of public power, the majesty of rule,<br>The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe,<br>To slavish empty pageants, to adorn<br>A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes<br>Of such as bow the knee; when honour'd urns<br>Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust<br>And storied arch, to glut the coward-rage<br>Of regal envy, strew the public way<br>With hallow'd ruins; when the Muse's haunt,<br>The marble porch where wisdom wont to talk<br>With Socrates or Tully, hears no more,<br>Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks,<br>Or female superstition's midnight prayer;<br>When ruthless rapine from the hand of time<br>Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow<br>To sweep the works of glory from their base;<br>Till desolation o'er the grass-grown street<br>Expands his raven-wings, and up the wall,<br>Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd,<br>Hisses the gliding snake through hoary weeds<br>That clasp the mouldering column; thus defac'd,<br>Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills<br>Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear<br>Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm<br>In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove<br>To fire the impious wreath on Philip's<br>Or dash Octavius from the trophied car;<br>Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste<br>The big distress? Or would'st thou then exchange<br>Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot<br>Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd<br>Of mute barbarians bending to his nod,<br>And bears aloft his gold-invested front,<br>And says within himself, “i am a king,<br>“And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe<br>“Intrude upon mine ear?—” The baleful dregs<br>Of these late ages, this inglorious draught<br>Of servitude and folly, have not yet,<br>Blest be the eternal ruler of the world!<br>Defil'd to such a depth of sordid shame<br>The native honours of the human soul,<br>Nor so effac'd the image of its sire.</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=454973" data-title="The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The Second de Mark Akenside" data-description="When shall the laurel and the vocal string Resume their honours? When shall we behold The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan hand Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, How slow the dawn of beauty and of truth Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothi..."></div> </div> </div>

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