The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

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Bell and Daldy, 1857 - Počet stran: 312
 

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Strana 9 - Imagination's tender frame, From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul At length discloses every tuneful spring, To that harmonious movement from without Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, And vales of bliss...
Strana 63 - His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring Distils her dews, and from the silken gem Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him, the hand Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him.
Strana 10 - Who that, from alpine heights, his labouring eye Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave . Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, And continents of sand, will turn his gaze To mark the windings of a scanty rill That murmurs at his feet ? The high-born soul Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing Beneath its native quarry.
Strana 10 - Omnipotent might send him forth In sight of mortal and immortal powers, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice; to exalt His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; To chase each partial purpose from his breast, And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward, Th...
Strana 19 - Wheeling unshaken through the void immense ; And speak, O man ! does this capacious scene With half that kindling majesty dilate Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail ? For lo ! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, And Rome again is free...
Strana 11 - Power's purple rote, nor Pleasure's flowery lap, The soul should find enjoyment : but from these Turning disdainful to an equal good. Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, Till every bound at length should disappear, And infinite perfection close the scene.
Strana 42 - That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture.
Strana 12 - Of all familiar prospects, though beheld With transport once ; the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment; the sober zeal Of age, commenting on prodigious things ; For such the bounteous providence of Heaven...
Strana 61 - From things deform'd, or disarranged, or gross In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow ; But God alone, when first his active hand Imprints the secret bias of the soul.
Strana xiv - Ask we for what fair end, &c.] Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that we have a natural sense or feeling of the ridiculous, and since so good a reason may be assigned to justify the supreme Being for bestowing it ; one cannot, without astonishment, reflect on the conduct of those men who imagine it is for the service of true religion to vilify and blacken it without distinction, and endeavour to persuade us that it is never applied but in a bad cause.

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