In the tradition of her fathers she wrote a poetical work rich of metaphoric expressions in a free styled rhythm Mark Akenside, , an English poet and physician, LONDON. Selected and edited with introduction, biographical sketch, notes, and a glossary' Image taken from page 28 of 'The Poetical Works of The Poetical Works of the Rev.
Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists' page of 'The Poetical Works of Jean Ingelow'. Selected and edited with introduction, biographical sketch, notes, and a glossary' Image taken from page of 'The Poetical Works of Poetical Works. Minto 'The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck: Published in Hartford, Conneticut John Hall Scott of Amwell Vintage hardback books on a wooden bookshelf. From 'La belle dame sans merci'.
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- Journeys of Wonder, Volume 1.
- Poetical Works of Akenside (Paperback)!
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Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists' page 46 of 'The Poetical Works of Jean Ingelow'. From 'The eve of St. Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists' page 6 of '[The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott.
With an illustration of his home in Keswick. I fee them dawn! I fee the radiant vifions where they rife, More lovely than when Lucifer difplays His glitt'ring forehead thro' the gates of morn, To lead the train of Phoebus and the Spring! As on an ample theatre, to join In conteft with his equals, who fhallbeft The tafk atchieve, the courfe of noble toils, By wil'dom and by mercy pre-ordainM?
Might fend him forth the lovran good to learn. To hold ftraight on, with conftant heart and eye Still fix'd upon his everlafting palm, Th' approving fmile of Heav'n? Elfe wherefore burns In mortal bofoms this unquenched hope That feeks from day to day fublhner ends, Happy tho' reftlefs? Proud of her dangers brav'd, her griefs endurM, Her ftrength feverely prov'd? To thefe high aims, Which reafon and affeilion prompt in man, tij Not adverfe nor unapt, hath Nature fram'd His bold Imagination ; for amid The various forms which this full world prefents Like rivals to his choice, what human bread E'er doubts before the tranlieni: Who that from heights aerial lends iiis eye Around a wild horizon, and iui veys Indus or Ganges rolling his broad wave Thro' mountains, plains, thro' fpacious cities old.
And regions dark with woods, will turn away To mark the path of fome penurious rill Which murm'reth at his feet? Where does the Soul Conient her foaring fancy to reftrain. Which bears her up as on an eagle's wings 24O Dt'ftin'd for higheft heavens? The rich earth Cannot detain her, nor the ambient air With all its changes. For a while with joy She hovers o'er the fun, and views the finall Attendant orbs beneath his lacred beam Emerging from the deep, like clufter'd ifles.
Whole rocky fiiores to the glad sailor's eye Refle6t the gleams of moi-ningj for a while With pride ihe fees his firm paternal fway Bend the relu6lant planets to move each Round its perpetual year ; but foon fhe quits That prol'pe6f j meditating loftier views. She darts advent'rous up the long career Of comets, thro' the conftellations holds Her courle, and now looks back on all the ftars, Whofe blended flames as with a milky ftreara Part the blue region.
Where happy fouls beyond this concave heav'n Abide, he then explores, whence purer light For countlefs ages travels thro' th' abyfs. Upon the wide oeaticn's utmoft fiiore At length Hie ftands, and the dread Ipace beyond Conten. That not in humble nor in brief delight. Not in the fleeting echoes of Renown, Pow'rs puiple robes, nor Pleafuie's flowVy lap, The foul fhould find contentment, but from thefe Turning difdainful to an equal good. Thro' Nature's opening walks enlarge her aim, Till ev'ry bound at length fliould diiappear. O child of Nature and the Soul, In happieft hour brought forth, the doubtful garb Of words, of earthly language, ail too mean.
Too lowly, I account, in which to clothe Thy form dix'ine! Wilt thou to the ifles Atlantic, to the rich Hefperian clime, Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on And learn from him, while, as he roves around, Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove The branches bloom with gold, where'er his foot Imprints the foil the ripening clutters fwell, Turning afide their foliage, and come forth In purple light, till ev'ry hillock glows As with the blufhes of an evening iky? Or wilt thou that Thefl'alian landfcape trace Where flow Peneus his clear glaffy tide Draws fmooth along, between the winding cliffs Of Ofla and the pathlefs woods unlhorn That wave o'er huge Olympus?
Down the ftream Look how the mountains with their double range Embrace the vale of Tempe, from each fide Afcending fteep to heav'n a rocky mound, Cover'd with ivy and the laurel boughs That crown'd young Phoebus for the Python flain. But if our talk More lofty rites demand, with all good vows Then let us haften to the rural haunt Where young MeliHa dwells ; nor thou refufe The voice which calls thee from thy iov'd retreat. Where beech and elm among the bordering mead Send forth wild melody, from evVy bough. Together let us wander, where the hills, Cover'd wit4-i fleeces, to the lowing vale Reply, where tidings of content and peace Each echo brings.
Lo, how the weftern fun O'er fields and floods, o'er ev'ry living foul, Diflufeth glad repofe! There, while I fpealc Of Beauty's honours, thou, Meiiffa! The hours, the ilafons, Ihe had oft' explor'd. At length her fav'rite manfion and her throne She fix'd in woman's form ; what pleafing ties To virtue bind her, what effeilual aid They lend each other's pow'r, and how divine Their union, ftiould iome unambitious maid To all th' enchantment of th' Idalian queen Add lanftity and Wifdom. While my tongue Prolongs the tale, MelilTd! Which bends afide in vain, revealing more What it would thus keep filent, and in vain The fenfe of praifc diUembling.
Then my fong Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform With joy and love the rugged brtail: Ye chiefly, gentle band Of Youths and Virgins! Or fiiapes infernai j-end the groaning earth, And fcare you from your joys. My cheerful fong With b. Then tell me for ye know Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where ufe And aptitude are frrangers? And win each fond admirer into ihares, Foil'd, baffled!
Thus to the choice of credulous defire Doth objefts the completed of their tribe Diltinguifh and commend. Or what are all The various charms to liie and fenfe adjoin'd? Are they not pledges of a ftate entire, Where native order reigns, with ev'ry part 43a In health, and ev'ry fun61ion well pertormM? Thus then at firll was Beauty ient from heav'n, The lovely miniftrels of Truth and Good In this dark world j for Truth and Good are one.
And Beauty dwells in them and they in her With like participation. Wherefore then, O Sons of Earth! O 1 wherefore with a raHi and greedy aim Seek ye to rove thro"" ev'ry flatt'ring i'cene Which Beauty feems to deck, nor once inquire Where is the fuflrage of eternal Tiutn, Or where the feal of undeceitful good. Beauty withers in your void embrace, And with the glittering of an idiot's toy Did fancy mock your vows.
Nor yet let Hope, That kindliell inmate of the youthiul brealf,. Be hence appall'd, be turn'd to coward loth. Sitting in liience with dejected eyes, Incurious, and with folded hands: Or hatred of the bigot's iavage pride, PerfuaJe you e'er that Beauty, or the love Which waits on Beauty, iDay not brook to hear The i'acied lore of uutieceittul good And truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd Tho' Superftition, tyrannefs abhorr'd! Within his frame ; thro' many a checilefs wild I ho forth he leads him credulous and dark.
And aw'd with dubious notion j tho' at length Haply fhe plunge him into cloilferM cells , And inanfions unrelenting as the o-rave, But void of quiet, there to watch the hours Uf midnight, there, amid the fcreaming cwPs Dire fong, with fpedres or with guilty fliades, 1 o talk of pangs and everlafting woe: Yet be not ye dilmay'd ; a gentlei- itar Frehdes o'er your adventure. From the bow'r Where Wildom fat with her Athenian fons, Could but my happy hand intwine a wreath Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay. Then, for what need of cruel fear to ycu, To you whom godlike love can well command?
And prolpefts various, but delightful all, Move onward ; while now myrtle groves appear 48 r Now arms and radiant tiophies, now the rods Of empire with the curule throne, or now The domes of Contemplation and the Mufe. Led by that hope lublime, whofe cloudlefs eye 1 hro the fair toils and ornaments of earth 40O Dilcerns the nobler life referv'd for heav'n, Fayour'd alike they worfhip round the fhrine Wnere Truth ccnipic'ous with her filter-twins, I he undivided partners of her fway, With Good and Beauty reigns.
The goal aflign'd her, haply to proclaim 51 1 Her triumph, on her brow to place the crown Of uncorrupted praife, thro' future worlds To follow her interminated way, And blefs Heav'n's image in the heart of man. Laft and leafl In colours mingling with a random blaze Doth Beauty dwell; then higher in the forms Of fimpleft, eafieft mealure, m the bounds Of circle, cube, ori'phere: While aftive inotion fpeaks the remper'd foul: So moves the bird of Juno, fo the ftced With rival fwiftnefs beats the dufty plain, And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy- Salute their fellows.
What fublimer pomp Adoiiis the feat where Virtue dwells on earth, And Truth's eternal daylight fhines around j What palm belongs to man's imperial front, And woman, pow'rful with becoming fmiles. Chief of terreftrial natures! Thus hath Beauty there Her moft confpic'ous praife to matter lent, Where moft confpic'ous thro' that fhadowy veil Breaks forth the bright expreffion of a mind, By Heps direding our enraptur'd fearch To him the firft of minds, the chief, the fole.
From whom thro' this wide complicated world Did all her various lineaments begin j To whom alone, confenting and entire, At once their mutual influence all difplay. He, God moft high, bear witnefs Earth and Heav'n! The living fountains in himfelf contains Of beauteous and fublime. With him inthron'd, Ere days or years trod their ethereal way.
Thee, O Father 1 this extent Of matter, thee the fluggifli earth and track Of feas, the heav'ns and heav'nly fplendors, feel Pervading, quick'ning, moving. From the depth Of thy great efience forth didlt thou conduft Eternal Form, and there, where Chaos reign'd, Gav'ft her doininion to ere6l her feat, And fanclify the manfion. AH her works Well pleas'd thou didll behold ; the gloomy fires Of torm or earthquake, and the pureft light Of fummer; foft Campania's newborn rofe.
Ancient Mindl Whom love and free beneficence await In all thy doings, to inferior minds Thy offspring, and to man thy youngeft fon, Refufmg no convenient giit nor good. Their eyes didft open in this earth, yon' heav"'n, Thofe Ifarry worlds, the countenance divine Of Beauty to behold: Thence inform'd, they fcan The objeils that fui round them, and fcleft.
Since the great whole dil'claims their fcanty view. O thou whom none hath utter'd! He judgeth what is tair. Corporeal things The mind of man impel with various pow'rs. And various features to his eye dilclofe. Other pow'rs And features of the ielf-lame thing luilefs The beauteous form, the creature ot his mind, Requeft their clofe alliance he overlooks Forgotten, or with felf beguiling zeal, "Whene'er his paflions mingle in the work.
The tribes of men Thus from their different funftions, and ti e hapes Familiar to their eye, which art obtain, Unconfcious of their purpoli? Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, The univerfal Venus, far beyond The keeneft effort of created eyes And the: Here ev'iy moment, in their turns arrive Her offspring, an innumerable band Of fillers, comely ail, bur uiff'ring far In age, in Ittiture, and exprtlfivc mien, More than blight Helen hum her newborn babe. Then to their fev'ral manfions they depart. In ftars, in planets, thro' the unknown ihores Of yon' ethereal ocean.
Who can tell E'en on the furface of this rolling earth How many make abode? The fields, the grovesi The winding rivers, and the azure main. Are render'd folemn by their frequent feet. Fhere each her deftin'd home Informs with that pure radiance from the flcies Brought down, and fliines throughout her little fphere Exulting. Straight as travellers by night Turn towards a diftant flame, fo Ibme fit eye Among the various tenants of the Icene Dil'cerns th' heav'n -born phantom feated there. And owns her charms: O let fome portion of thy matchlefs praife Dwell in my brea'i, and teach me to adorn This unattempted theme 1 Nor be my thoughts Prefumpt'ous counted, if, amid the calm Which Hefper flicds along the vernal heav'n, If I from vulgar Superftition's walk Impatient ileal, and from th' unfeemly rites Of fplendid Adulation, to attend With hymns thy prefence in the fyWan hade.
Come, O renowned Pow'r! And at the ];ghtning of tliy lifted fpear Crciich'd like a lave. Bring all thy martial fpoils, Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal longs, yij Thy Imiling band of aits, thy godlike fires 01 civil wiidom, thy unconqucr'd youth, After fome glorious day rejoicing round Their new ere6led trophy. Guide my feet Thro' fair Lyceum's walk, the olive Ihades Of Academus and the facred vale Haunted by fteps divine, where once beneath That ever- living plantane's ample boiighs Iliflus, by Socratic founds detained, On his neglected urn attentive lay, While Boreas, ling'i ing on the neiyhbVing fteep.
With beauteous Orithyia, his love tale In filent awe fuipended: Of truth and Us three dalles, matter of faft, exptriniental or I'cientificai truth, contradif- tinguifhed fr. Of virtue confidered in the Pivine Mind as a perpetual and univerfal beneficence.
Of vice and its origin. Now my fong Severer themes demand, myiterious tnnh ; 5 And virtue, fovmngood; the fpells, the trains. The projeny of error; the dread Avay Or paihon, and whatever hidden Itores From her own Jofty deeds and from herfelf The mind acquires. Severer argimient, jo Not id's attractive, nor deferving lefs A conftant ear: Not tending to the heart, foon feeble grows 3 15 As the blunt arrow 'gainft the knotty tiimk.
Their impulfe on the lenfe, while the palPd eye Kxpects in vain its tribute, a! Where are the ornaments it once admir'd? Th' ambitious mind With objefts boundlels as her own delires Can there converfe: Such the fcenes Now op'ning. Of penfive freedom, when the human foul Shuts out the rumour of the world, him ftlll Touch thou with fecret lefibns ; call thou back Each erring thought, and let the yielding drains From his full bofom like a welcome rill Spontaneous fiom its healthy fountain flow r But from what name, what favourable fign, What hcav'iily aufpice, rather fliall I date My perilous excurfion than from trutb, That neareit inmate of the human foul, 45 Eftrang'd from whom, the countenance divine Of Man, disfigui'd and diflionour'd, finks Among inferior things?
Into the mind's wide palace, one by one, The frequent, prefTing, fiii6luating forms. And queiiion and compare them. When oft' the fame fociety of forms 70 In the fame order have approach'd his mind, He deigns no more their fteps with curious heed To trace ; no more their features or their garb He now examines, but of them and their Condition, as with fome diviner's tongue, 75 Affirms what Heav'n in ev'ry diftant place Thro' ev'ry future feafon will decree.
This too is truth: Yet oft' in vain To earn her aid with fix'd and anxious eye He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's courfe. Too much in vain: Here thou who feel'ft thine ear Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone Paule and be warchful. Hithefto the ftores Which feed thy mind and exercife her pow'rs Partake the relifii of their native foil, ico Their parent earth: Thro' endlefs ages never will reveal. Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, The flave of hunger and the prey of Death, i lo E'en now, e'en here, in earth's dim prifon bound. The language of intelligence divine Attains, repeating oft' concerning one And many, palt and prefent, parts and whole, Thofe fovran di6lates which in fartheft heav'n, Where no orb rolls.
Eternity's fix'd ear Hears from coeval truth, whence Chance nor Change, Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's felf. Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. Ere long o'er this corporeal world he learns T' extend her I'way, while calling from the deep. From earth and air, their multitudes untold Of figujes and of motions round his walk. Then whate'er his eye In this difcerns, his bold unerring tongue Pronounceth, of the kindred without bound, Without condition. Such the rife of forms Sequefter'd far from fenfe, and ev'jy fpot Peculiar in the realms of fpace or time ; Such is the throne which man for Truth amid The paths of mutability hath built 1 35 Secure, unfhaken, ftill, and whence he views In matter's mould'ring ftrudlures the pure forms Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, Impalfive all, whole attributes nor Force Nor Fate can alter: XlZ Prepares for endlefs time his plan of life, And counts the univerfe itlelf his home.
Whence aifo but from truth, the light of minds, 1 50 Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays Of virtue? Ere the dayfpring flow'd. Go, inquire Of Nature, not among Tartarean rocks, W iither the hungry vulture with its prey JReturns, not where the Hone's fullen roar At noon refounds along the lonely banks Of ancient Tigris, but her gentler fcenes. The dovecote and the ftiepherd's fold at morn Confultj or by tlie meadow's fragrant hedge, In fpring time, when the woodland's firft are green, Attend the linnet finging to his mate, Couch'd o'er their tender young.
To this fond care Thou doft not Virtue's honourable name Attribute i wherefore, fave that not one gleam Of truth did e'er difcover to themfelves Their little hearts, or teach them by th' effe6ls Of that parental love the love itfelf To judge, and meafure its officious deeds? For if a mortal tongue may ipeak of him And his dread ways ev'n as his boundlcfs eye, Conneding ev'ry form and ev'ry change. Beholds the perjeft beauty, fo his will, Thro' ev'ry hour producing good to all The family of creatures, is itfelf The perfect virtue. Which haply meets their loud and eager pray'r. Acknowledge; nor beyond the drop minute.
The goodly work of his eternal day. His own fair univerle, on which alone His counfels fix, and whence alone his will Ailumes her ftrong direiiion. Such is now His lovran purpol'e, fuch it was before All multitude of years: And by the difcipline ot laws divine, Convinc'd of folly, or challis'd hom guilt, Each might at length be happy. What remains Shall be like what is pal's'd, but fairer Hill, And Itill increafmg in the godlike gifts Of life and truth. The fame paternal hand, From the mute fhellfifh gafping on the fhore.
To men, to angels, to celelf iai minds. Will ever lead the generations on Thro' higher fcenes of being, while fupply'd From day to day by his enliv'ning breath. Inferior orders in lucceilion rife To fill the void below. As vapours to the earth in Ihow'rs return, As the pois'd ocean toward th' attracting moon Swells, and the ever lilViiing planets, charm'd K 3 Nor doth the mall'ring voice Of Nature ceafe within to prompt aright Their fteps, nor is the care of Heav'n withheld From lending to the toil external aid, That in their ftations ail may perfevere To climb th' alcent of being, and approach For ever nearer to the life divine.
Tho' to fome be giv'n To catch a tranfient vifionary glimpfe Of that majettic fcene which boundlefs pow'r Prepares for perftft goodnefs, yet in vain Would human life her faculties expand T' imbofbm fuch an object ; nor could e'er Virtue or praife have touch'd the hearts of men, Had not the Sovran Guide thro' every llage Of this their various journey pointed out New hopes, new toils, which to their humble fphere Of figh; and ftrength might fuch importance hold As doth the wide creation to his own: Then the ibul Arifes in her ftrength, and looking round Her bufy fphere, whatever work, fhe views.
Whatever counfel, bearing any trace Of her Creator's likenefs, whether apt To aid her fellows, or preferve herfelf In her fuperior funflions unimpaired, Thither flie turns exulting; that fhe claims As her peculiar good ; on that thro' all The fickle feafons of the day flie looks With revVence Hill ; to that as to a tence Againft affli6fion and the darts of pain Her drooping hopes repair j and once oppos'd To that, all other pleafure, other wealth, Vile as the drofs upon the molten gold Appears, and loathfome as the briny fea To him who languifhes with thirft, and fighs For fome known fountain pure.
For what can ftrive With virtue? Is aught fo fair In all the dewy landfcapes of the Spring, The Summer's noontide groves, the purple eve At harvell-home, or in the frotty moon Glitt'ring on fome fmooth fea, is aught fo fair As virtuous friend hip? What gift of richeft clime E'er drew I'uch eager eyes, or prompted fuch Deep wiOies, as the zeal that Ihatcheth back From Slander's pois'nous tooth a foe's renown, Or crofleth danger in his lion walk A rival's life to relcue?
Or is there in th' abyfs, Is there among the adamantine fpheres Wheeling unfliaken thro' the boundlefs void, Aught that with half fuch majefly can fill The human bofora, as wlien Brutus roie Refulgent from the ftroke of Ca2far'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 fhook the crimfon fword Of juftice in his rapt aftonilh'd eye, And bad the father of his country, Hail!
Fo lo the tyrant proftrate on the duft, And Rome again is free 1 Thus thro' the paths Of human life, in various pomp array'd, Walks the wife daughter of the Judge of Heav'n, Fair Virtue! And tho' haply man's Obfcurer fight fo far beyond himfclf. And the brief labours of his little home. Extends not, yet, by the bright prefence won OF this divine in bu6lrers, to her iway Pleas'd he affents, nor heeds the diftant goal To which her voice condu6ts him.
And all the comely inteixourle of praife, The joy of human life, the earthly heav'n. How far unlike them muft the lot of guilt Be found! What cautions to fufpeft their painted drefs. And look with fteady eyelid on their fmiles, Their frowns, their tears. Before him, death-bed groans and dil'mal vows. And the frail foul pking'd headlong horn the brink Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire Unvifited by mercy? Tho' Love, with pray'rs Moll tender, with Affli6lion's facred tears, Befeech his aid, tho' Gratitude and Faith Condemn each ffep which loiters, yet let none Make anfwer for him, that if any frown Of danger thwart his path, he will not lay Content, and be a wretch to be fecure.
Here vice begins then: Heedlefs they comply, Till the whole foul from that mylterious draught Is ting'd, and ev'ry tranfient thought imbibes Of gladnefs or dilguft, defire or fear, One homebred colour, which not all the lights Of fcience e'er fliall change, not all the Itorms Of adverfe fortune wafh away, nor yet The robe of pureit virtue quite conceal. Or only guides to err.
Then revel forth A furious band, that fpurn him from the throne. And all is uproar: And envious Luft, by venal Fraud upborne. Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws. Which kept them from their prey: A thoui'and garbs Hie wears, a thoufand ways She whirls her giddy empire. Her wiles familiar, whether fcorn fhe darts In wanton ambufti from her lip or eye. Or whether with a fad difguife of care O'er-mantling her gay brow he a6fs in fport The deeds of Folly, and from all fides round Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke, Her province.
But tliro' every comic fcene To lead my Mule with her light pencil arm'd. Sun, cloud, or fliowV. Suffice it to have faid, Where'r the pow'r of Ridicule difplays Her quaint-eyM vifage, fome incongruous form, Some lUibborn difl'onance of things combined, Strikes on her quick perception, whether Pomp, Or Praife, or Beauty, be dragg'd in, and fhown Where fordid faihions, where ignoble deeds. Where foul Defonnity, is wont to dwell ; Or whether thefe with fluewd and wayward fpite Invade refplendent Pomp's imperious mien, The charms of Beauty or the boaft of Praife. Alk we for what fair end th' Almighty Sire In mortal bofoms ftirs this gay contempt, Thefe grateful pangs of laughter, from difguft Bducing pleafure?
Wherefore but to aid The tardy fteps of Reafon, and at once By this prompt impulfe urge us to deprefs Wild Folly's aims? How thefe uncouth diforders end at lall In public evil, yet benignant Keav'n, Confcious how dim the dawn of truth appears To thoufands, confcious what a fcanty paufe From labour and from care the wider lot Of humble life affords for ftudious thought To fcan the maze of Nature, therefore Itamp'd Thefe glaring fcenes with charafters of fcoin.
As broad, as obvious, to the paffing clown As to the letter'd fage's curious eye.
Some like cruel guards On Nature's ever- moving throne attend. With railchief arm'U for him v. Whence he expe6led bread. But worfe than thefe I deem, far worfe, that other race of ills Which humankind rear up among themfelves, That horrid offspring which milgovern'd Will Bears to fantaftic Error ; Vices, Crimes, Furies that oirfe the earth, and make the blows. The heavielt blows, of Nature's innocent hand Seem Iport j which are indeed but as the care Of a wife parent who folicits good To all her hoiife, tho' haply at the price Of tears, and froward wailing, and reproach, From fome unthinking child, whom not the lefs Its mother deftines to be happy Itill.
No carelefs watch, and therefore was his bread Fenc'd round with paflions quick to be alarm'd. Or llubborn to oppofe j with fear more fwift Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill Where armies land, with anger uncontroll'd As the young lion bounding on his prey. With forrow that locks up the ftruggling heart, And fhame that overcafts the droopmg eye f 80 As with a cloud of lightning. Thefe the part ' Perform of eager monitors, and goad The foul more fharply than with points of Ueei Her enemies to fhun or to rcfift: For what can render to the ieif-approv'd Their temper void of comfort, tho' in pain?
Who, that bears A human boibm, hath not often felt How dear are all thofe ties which bind our race In gentlenefs together, and how fwcet Their foi ce, let Fortune's wayward hand the while Be kind or cruel? Aik the faithful youth Why the cold uin of her whom long he lov'd So often lills his arms, fo often draws His lonely. No tender charm mylterious, which attrails O'er all that edge of pain the locial powers To this their proper aftion and their end?
Afk thy own heart, when at the midnight hour Slow thro' that penfive gloom thy paufmg eye, Led by the glimmering taper, moves around The rev'rend volumes of the dead, the fongs Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame For Grecian heroes, where the Sov'ran Pow'r Of heav'n and earth furveys th' immortal page, Even as a fatlier meditating all The prailes of his fon, and bids the reft Of mankind there the faiieft model learn Of their own nature, and the nobled deeds Which yet the world hath ieen: When, funk by many a wound, heroic ftatcs Mourn in the dult, and tremble at the frown Of hard Ambition ; when the gen'rous band Of youths who fought for freedom and their fires Lie fide by fide in death 5 when brutal Force Ulurps the throne of Juftice, turns the pojnp Of guardian pow'r, the majefty of rule.
The Iword, the laurel, and the purple robe. Rewards of virtue, I'culptur'd forms, which deckM With more than human grace the warrior's arch Or patriot's tomb, now vi6lims to appeafe Tyrannic Envy, ftrew the common path With awful ruins j when the Muies' haunt, The marble Porch where Wifdom, wont, to talk.
With Socrates or TuUy, hears no more Save the hoarfe jargon of contentious monks, Or female Superftition's midnight pray'r ; When ruthlefs Havock from the hand of Time Tears the deftroying fcythe, with furer ftroke To mow the monuments of glory down, Till Defolation o'er the srals- grown Ifreet Expands her raven wings, and from the gate Where fenates once the weal of nations piann'd, Hifleth the gliding fnake thro' hoary weeds That clafp the mould'ring column: That Eternal Mind, 5 From paffions, wants, and envy, far eftrang'd.
Who built the fpacious univerfe, and deck'd Each part lb richly with whate'er pertains To life, to health, to pkafure, why bad he The viper Evil cieeping in pollute 10 The goodly fccne, and with infidious rage. While ihe poor inmate looks around and Imlles, Dart her fell iting with poifon to his foul? Portentous oft' and wild: Or gentle as the golden ilar of eve.
Thus from day to day He won the gen'ral fuffrage, and beheld co Each rival ovedhadow'd and deprefs'd Beneath his ampler ftate, yet oft complained As one lefs kindly treated, who had hop'd To merit favour, but fubmits perforce To find another's lervices preferred, 55 Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or ziral. Tiien tales were fcatrcr'd of his envious foes, Of fiiares that watch'd his tame, of daggers aimej Againft his life. At laft, with trembling limbs.
His hair diffused and wild, his garments ioofe, 60 And ftain'd with blood from felf-infli6led wounds. He burft into the public place, as there. There only, were his refuge, and declar'd In broken words, with fighs of deep regret, The mortal danger he had fcarce repell'd. To guard his fleps, forthwith a menial band, Anay'd beneath his eye for deeds of war. O Itill too lib'ral of their tiuif. And oft' betray 'd by over- grateful love, 70 The gen'rous people! Had barr'd the Iteep afcent, and fat within Anvid his hirelings meditating death To all whofe Rubborn necks his yoke refus'd.
After ten long years Of abfence, full of hade, from foreign fhores The fage, the lawgiver, had now arriv'd, Arriv'd, alas! And deprecate his vv-rath and court his chains. Yet did not the wile patriot's grief impede His virt'ous will, nor was his heart inelin'd One moment with luch womanlike dillrel's To view the tranfient ftorms of civil war. As thence to yield his country and her hoj es To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, J05 E'en while the traitoi-'s impious a61 is told. Would dalh him from the lummit of his pride Headlong and grov'lling in the duft.
What eUe Can lealtert the loft Athenian name, So cheaply to the laughter of the world Betray "d, by guile beneath an infant's faith So mockM and fcorn'd? Away tiien j Freedom now And Safety dwell not but with fame in arms j Myfelf will lliew you where their manfion lies. And thro' the walks of danger or of death Conduft you to them.
While he I'pake, thro"" all Their crowded ranks his quick fagacious eye 1x5 He darted, where no cheerful voice was heard Of fecial daring, no ftretch'd arm was feen Haft'ning their common tafk, hot pale miitruft Wrinkled each brow: Weary and How, his filver beard deprefs'd, And his ftern eyes bent heedlefs on the ground, Back to his filent dwelling he repair'd ; There o'er the gate his armour, as a man Whom from the fervice of the war his chief Difmiifeth after no inglorious toil.
He fix'd in gen'ral view: II9 Conciliated all, than whom the ftate beheld None nobler. Firlt came Mcgacles, the fon 1 55 Of great Alcnieon, whom the Lydian king. The mild unhappy Croelus, in his days Of glory, had with coltly gifts adorn'd. Fair veffels, fplendid garments, tinQur'd webs, And heaps of treafur'd gold, b. Then viftor at the goal. Amid th' applaufes of afiembled Greece High on his car he ftood, and wav'd his arm: Silence enlu'd, when ftraight the herald's voice Was heard inviting ev'ry Grecian youth, iSo Whom Ciifthenes content might call his ion, To vilit ere twice thirty days were pafs'd The towers of Sicyon.
There the chief decreed. Within the circuit of the following year, To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand With his fair daughter, him among the guefts Whom worthieft he fhould deem. Forthwith from all The bounds of Greece th' ambitious wooers came ; From rich Hefperia j from th' Illyrian fnore, Where Epidamnus over Adria's lurge Looks on the fetring fun; from thofe brave tribes, Ch?.
Not yet the haunt of glory: Athens too, Minerva's care, among her graceful fons Found equal lovers for the princely maid j Nor was proud As gos wanting ; nor the domes Of facred Elis ; nor th' Arcadian groves That overiliade Alpheus, echoing oft' Some hepherd's fong.
But thro' th' illuflrious band Was none who might with Megacles compare In all the honours of unblemiih'd youth. His was the beauteous bride j and now their fon. Young Clifthenes, betimes at Solon's gate Stood anxious, leaning forward on the arm Of his great fire, with earneft eyes that afk'd When the flow hinge would turn, with reltlefs feet. And cheeks now pale, now glowing ; for his heart Throbb'd, full of burlHng palfions, anger, grief. With fcorn imbitter'd by the gen'rous boy Scarce underllood, but which, like noble feeds, Are deftin'd, for his country and himfelf.
In riper years, to bring forth fruits divine Of liberty and glory. From a Item So facred ne'er could worthier fcion fpring Than this Miltiades, whofe aid ere long The chiefs of Thrace, already on their way, Sent by th' infpir'd foreknowing maid who fits Upon the Delphic tripod, fliali implore To wield tlieir Iceptre, and the rural wealth Of fruitful Cherfonefus to prote6l With arms and laws: Save for his injur'd country, here he ftands In deep folicitude with Cimon join'd, Unconlcious both what widely diff'rent lots Await them, taught by Nature, as they are.
To know one common good, one common ill: For Cimon not his valour, not his birth, Deriy'd from Codi'us, not a thoufand gifts Dealt round him with a wiie benignant hand. No, not th' Olympic olive, by himfelf From his own brow transferr'd to foothe the mind Of this Pififtratus, can long preferve From the fell envy of the tyrant's fons And their afiafiin dagger. But if death Ohfcure upon his gentle fteps attend. Yet Fate an ample recompence prepares In his viftorious fon, that other great Miltiades, who o'er the very throne Of glory fhall with Time's afliduous hand In adamantine charailers engrave The name of Athens, and, by Freedom arm'd 'Gainft the gigantic pride of Afia's king, Siiall all th' achievements of the heroes old Surir.
Bright with the beams of morn, a verdant fpot, Where ftanJs a rural altar, pil'd with fods Cut from the grafly turf, and gij-t with wreaths Of branching palm. Here Solon's felf they found Clad in a robe of purple pure, and declc'd With leaves of olive on his rev'rend brow. He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes Of barley from two earthen vefTels pour'd Of honey and of milk a plenteous ftream.
Unfeeh the guefts drew near, and filent viewM That worfiiip, till the hero priell his eye 29G Turn'd toward a feat on which preparM there lay A branch of laurel j then his friends confelsM Before him ftood. Backward his ftep he drew, As loth that care or tumult hould approach Thofe early riglits divine; but foon their looks So anxious, and their hands held forth with fuch Defpondiug gelhire, bring him on perforce To fpeak to tlieir affliftion. But behold " What care employs me now. Solon rais'd Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began: The walls of Athens till my feet have trod The Cretan foil, have pierc'd thofe rev'rend haunts Whence Law and civil Concord iflu'd forth As from their ancient home ; and ftill to Greece Their wifeft, loftieft difcipline proclaim.
Straight where Amnifus, mart of wealthy fhips. Appears beneath fam'd Gnoflus and her tow'rs, Like the fair handmaid of a ftately queen, I check'd my prow, and thence with eager fteps The city of Minos enter'd. Who taught the leaders of the fimpler time By written words to curb the untow'rd will Of mortals, how within that gen'rous ifle Have ye the triumphs of your pow'r difplay'd Munificent!
Thofe fplendid merchants, lords Of -traffic and the fea, with what delight I faw them at their public meal, like Ions Of the fame houlhold, join the plainer fort, Whofe wealth was only freedom! Of their firft fathers. Then the growing race, How pleafmg to behold them in their fchools, Their fports, their labours, ever placM within, O hade of Mirms! It was Pulteney 's business, it seems, to abolish faro and masquerades, to stint the young Duke of Marlborough to a bottle of brandy a day, and to prevail on Lady Yane to be content with three lovers at a time.
The Apostrophe, in the " Pleasures of Hope," beginning, — Departed spirits of the mighty dead! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled, is only an echo of Akenside's appeal — Ye shades immortal, who, by Freedom led, Or in the field, or on the scaffold bled, Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye.
Akenside's ill success in his medical schemes was now become decisive ; and, quitting Northampton, which, ac- cording to Johnson, he had deafened with clamours for liberty, in , he removed to Hampstead. The rivals were probably reconciled in parting ; for a letter is preserved from Dr. Stonehouse, in which he speaks of Akenside as a man of refined sense and elegant taste ; " and whose near neighbourhood, in any place where there had been room for them both," he would have regarded as an addition to his own happiness.
The first edition of the Odes had already been published. Akenside came to Hampstead with every advantage of position and patronage. Dyson purchased a house that he might introduce him among the neighbouring families ; and there, is the relation of Sir John Hawkins, " they dwelt together during the summer season, frequenting the long room, and all clubs, and assemblies of the inhabitants. Untaught by the experience of Northampton, he manifested in the society of Hampstead the same love of display and haughtiness of manner.
Yet there was much to soften a temper. He had before his eyes a prospect, which G-oldsmith, in a moment of enthusiasm, declared to be magnificent; and he enjoyed the endearing kindness of his generous companion. XIX entrance of Mr. Dyson's villa at G-onlder's Hill, close by, without thinking of the pleasure which Akenside often had there. The Hampstead malignants were not choice in their weapons, and even the Newcastle butcher was revived to mortify the presuming physician.
After a residence of less than three years, Akenside aban- doned Hampstead, and took up his abode in London, the proper place, if we are to accept Johnson's opinion, for a man of accomplishments like his. The protecting hand of Dyson, however, had caught no chill ; and having procured a house in Bloomsbury Square, he placed the poet in it, and calmed his anxiety and doubts for the future by an annuity of three hundred pounds.
The romance of literature contains few pages so pleasing as this memorial of friendship, between persons who differed in almost every feature of intellect and disposition. Eickman did not less resemble Southey. Either might have said of the other: Dyson was strictly a man of business: Richardson honoured him with a ring, Akenside with regard, and Junius with abuse. N"ow Taste loves him. Wordsworth, for the expenses of a tour. But the generosity of Dyson overtops them all. We are informed by Hardin ge that Akenside lived incomparably well; and Sir John Hawkins expresses a conviction that the supply which the poet drew from his friend, was only limited by his wants.
Men are lavish of words ; but money is the true test of esteem. Ask a favour, and you try the metal. He is blessed who finds it to be pure. Akenside was not ungrateful. Time gave a richer and a warmer colour to his attachment, into which all the checked tenderness of love seemed to flow ; and, after fifteen years of most familiar intercourse, he illuminated and consecrated the friendship for ever, in the lines which lie inserted in the remodelled copy of the " Pleasures of Imagination: What, though first In years unseason'd, haply ere the sports Of childhood yet were o'er, the adventurous lay, With many splendid prospects, many charms, Allur'd my heart, nor conscious whence they sprung, Nor heedful of their end?
Yet serious Truth Her empire o'er the calm, sequestered theme Asserted now ; while Falsehood's evil brood, Vice and deceitful pleasure, she at once Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil Drew to the better cause. Maturer aid Thy friendship added, in the paths of life, The busy paths, my unaccustomed feet Preserving ; nor to Truth's recess divine, Through this wide argument's unbroken space, Withholding surer guidance ; while by turns We traeed the sages old, or while the queen Of Sciences whom manners and the mind Acknowledge to my true companion's voice Not unattentive, o'er the wintry lamp Inclin'd her sceptre favouring.
Now the Fates Have other tasks impos'd. XXI Of popular decrees, in early youth, Not vaiuly they committed. Me they sent To wait on pain ; and silent arts to urge, Inglorious, not ignoble ; if my cares, To such as languish on a grievous bed, Ease and the sweet forgetfulness of ill Conciliate ; nor delightless ; if the Muse, Her shades to visit and to taste her springs, If some distinguished hours the bounteous Muse Impart, and grant what she and she alone Can grant to mortals that my hand those wreaths Of fame and honest favour, which the bless' d "Wear in Elysium, and which never felt The breath of envy, or malignant tongues, That these my hand for thee and for myself ' May gather.
Meanwhile, my faithful friend, early chosen, ever found the same, And trusted and beloved ; once more the verse Long destin'd, always obvious to thine ear, Attend, indulgent. Akenside found his professional work sufficiently easy to permit of literary occupation, when Dodsley sought his aid to render the magazine called the "Museum" more attractive and popular. Peter Cunningham has printed the poet's agreement to prepare two essays in each month, and to furnish a general account of important boohs, — English, Latin, French, or Italian, — as they came from the Press. Por this assistance a yearly payment of one hundred pounds was promised.
The contributions of Akenside are extremely ingenious. Having composed his mind by the contem- plation of these venerable figures, the Essayist falls asleep, and suddenly finds himself walking in a vast plain, where he is met by a dignified man, clothed in purple, and holding a silver rod, who, after a kind salutation, offers to conduct him to the abode of modern Fame, the younger sister of the ancient.
The Poet accepts the offer, and enters the temple. Some of the characters are vigorously described, not without an occasional touch of irony; as when Leo X. The breaking up of the vision is appro- priately ascribed to the clamour and mirth accompanying the entrance of a candidate, who had brushed in by stealth, and whose arch leer and Foppington step pro- claimed him to be Colley Cibber. This essay was printed in the " Museum," September 13, In the same year he produced the " Hymn to the Naiads.
In he obtained the degree of Doctor of Medicine from the University of Cambridge, and in the next year he was elected a fellow of the College of Physi- cians, before whom he read the Gulstonian Lectures, at the close of May, ; and the Croonian Lectures, in September, ; but the subject, the " Revival of Learn- ing," had no fitness to recommend it, and being reasonably disapproved, Akenside abruptly concluded the course.
Of the extent and nature of his practice the opinions are conflicting and irreconcilable. Kippis calls it consider- able, and Hardinge believed it to be insignificant. His patients might be few, but they were probably in the higher ranks. XX ton's Anecdotes of Lis own Life, which encourages this inference: Paul's, his good friend Bishop Lyttelton was coming from the other end of the town to visit him, when a strong east wind, blowing full in his face, affected him to such a degree that he could come no fur- ther than Temple Bar, sent his servant on to St.
Paul's, and went himself directly home again. This intended visit proved fatal to him, for he was seized with the same kind of inflammation of the lungs and shortness of breath as his friend had been, and Dr.
Akenside, his physician, treated him in the same manner as the other physicians had treated his friend. In January, , he was chosen Assistant, and two months later, chief Physician of St. He wanted the gentleness and the patience that sufferings demand: There happened to be at the hospital a young surgeon's dresser, to whom the poetry of Akenside was familiar, and who rejoiced in the prospect of being associated with the writer.
But his hopes soon died out when he beheld the solemn and petu- lant Doctor in a large white wig, and wearing a long sword, preceded by a detachment of convalescents, armed with brooms to repulse any intrusive invalid, and sweep what- ever dust might gather in the progress. The young ad- mirer was Lettsom, who afterwards claimed his own niche in the biography of learned and good men. I may here add to the medical publications of Akenside an account of a blow upon the heart, included in the JP7ii- losophical Transactions , and a later tract DeDysen- teria Having removed from Bloomsbury-square to Craven- street in , he again changed his abode for Burlington-street, where he resided until his death.
The i Works of Bishop Newton, i. October of was marked by the delivery of tbe " Harveian Oration," which, by the order of the College of Physicians, was published in the following year. But witnessed a more important circumstance in Ak en- side's history ; for in that year he went over to Toryism. Dyson deserted his old companions at the same time. Hardinge, " bigoted adherents to Lord Bute. Dyson was preferred, and his friend, whom he always kept in mind, was made Physician to the Queen.
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Akenside's pa- triotism had doubtless a poetical hue: Hardinge very cleverly said that his politics were illegible. In he printed an Ode to Thomas Edwards, which had been written fifteen years before. Its publication was occasioned by Warburton's issue of a new edition of the first and second volumes of the " Divine Legation," in which the censure of Akenside was retained.
An acci- dental discovery enabled the poet to annoy his antagonist. There lived in London, at the beginning of January, , a certain Matthew Concanen, whose present abode is in the second book of the " Dunciad. The letter fell into the hands of Akenside, who would have shown more respect to himself by suppressing it. The ode is pleasing. He enjoyed the particular friendship of Dyer, and closed his journey of life at the same age, and in the same year.
He was buried at Ellesborough, in Bucking- hamshire, and one of the most pleasing of his sonnets is addressed to the sexton of that parish. Akenside was now engaged upon the revised copy of his "Pleasures of Imagination;" and in he had com- pleted the second book. In the September 23rd of that year, we read a notice of him in a letter of his friend, Mr. Wray, who had a house at Richmond, called Mount Ararat: In the for- mer, and in the same philosophical way, he is eloquent on the topics of truth, and virtue, vice, and the passions.
In the latter, Solon is introduced, giving a fable on the origin of evil; it is introduced by an episode from Herodotus of Argarista's marriage, the daughter of Clisthenes, which is delightfully poetical. He was buried at St. James's Church, on the 28th. The manuscripts and property of Akenside passed into the hands of Mr. Dyson, who published an edition of the Poems in , with a brief notice of the Author in the form of an advertisement. For a pen-and-ink sketch of Akenside we are indebted to Mr. Justice Hardinge, who knew him intimately.
His appearance was not prepossessing, the complexion being pale and sickly, though the features were manly and ex- pressive ; a powdered wig in stiff curl, together with an artificial heel, heightened the grotesque seriousness of his general aspect. According to Hardinge, "he looked as if he never could be undressed," and the cleaver, which fell on his foot in his father's shop, left a "hitch" in his gait. Rogers 1 remembers a saying of Henderson, the comedian, that Akenside, when he walked the streets, was like one of his own "Alexandrines" set upright.
His temper was irritable, and sometimes brutal, if a patient did not immediately answer his questions, or showed any hesitation or difficulty in swallowing the medi- cines which he prescribed. Of his harsh behaviour to women, a curious explanation has been discovered in the bitter remembrance of an early disappointment. But no safe conclusions are to be drawn from poetical complaints or panegyrics. That Akenside was a lover, favoured or rejected, we have no other evidence than his own verses.
The first book of the " Pleasures" has a portrait of Dione, and the second shows Parthenia called away by death when the wreath of Hymen was woven for her head. We may expect the " refused" to be spiteful, but scarcely the " bereaved. In the gardens of Mount Ararat, with a choice circle of admiring friends, or over an elegant repast at Putney Bowling-green, he was a delightful companion ; and while he poured out a libation to Plato, or other ancient worthy, he often described his genius 1 Quoted by Mr.
XXV11 and character with elegance and fervour.
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He possessed large stores of historical learning, which he applied with brilliancy and effect. In his own house the lordliness of manner might not be lessened ; but a visitor, who humoured his caprice, found himself abundantly repaid when the poet opened his portfolio, and tastefully illustrated the Italian and Dutch painters.
He had no wit, and seldom took a jest complacently; the same remark is true of his writings, where he appears uniformly grave and dignified. The severity of Juvenal suited him better than the playfulness of Horace. But an instance of a more placable temper is given by Sir John Hawkins: This railer, after labouring to prove that it was all imposture, concluded his discourse with this sentiment: The evenings at ' Toms', which was a coffee-house in Devereux- court, much frequented by the "Wits," did not always end so agreeably. Hawkins tells the story: Among the usual guests, was a lawyer — short, ugly, clever, vulgar, and without practice ; his name was Ballow, and he wore a long sword.
The poet and the lawyer never agreed. Ballow took the government side, and Akenside the re- publican. In early life, Akenside, like Pope and Cowper, made some efforts with the pencil ; and his love of Art never for- sook him. Bucke had an acquaintance, one Mr. Mey- rick, who died in , aged eighty years ; being an apo- thecary, he had frequent opportunities of meeting Aken- side, of whose architectural taste he furnished an interest- ing anecdote. He occasionally " caught him contemplating with great earnestness the exterior of Westminster Abbey. He would frequently sit, of a fine moonlight night, on the benches of St.
James's Park, gazing on the sublime struc- ture ; and I remember," Mr. Meyrick added, " that he seldom thought of the passage in his own poem, The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, but he recollected a still finer one in Pope's " Homer," " As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night. Akenside was always ready to commend the genius of his contemporaries, wherever he found it. Meyrick possessed his copy of the "Castle of Indolence," in which several passages were marked with special admiration ; and particularly the lovely stanza beginning, I care not. Fortune, what you me deny.
XXIX side was pompous, Armstrong was sleepy. But each might appreciate the gifts of the other ; and no man of taste could read without delight Armstrong's sublime apostrophe to the rivers of the earth, which, in the opinion of Mr. Cary, has a more majestic sound, and fills the mind with grander images, than the corresponding paragraph in Thomson. These lines are noble, indeed: With holy reverence I approach the rocks Where glide the streams renowned in ancient song.
Here from the desert, down the rumbling steep, First springs the Nile ; here bursts the sounding Po In angry waves ; Euphrates hence devolves A mighty flood to water half the East ; And there, in Grothic solitude reclin'd, The cheerless Tanais pours his hoary urn. Through every nerve A sacred horror thrills ; a pleasing fear Glides o'er my frame. The forest deepens round ; And more gigantic still th' impending trees Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom.
Poetical Works of Akenside
Are these the confines of another world? Among the friends of Akenside were the poet Dyer, Dr. Smollet ridiculed Akenside, but, at a later period, he ac- knowledges his excellence in didactic poetry. Chaucer has told us of a doctor of physic, that his study " was little in the Bible," and the religious opinions of 1 See the letter to Key. Akenside do not seem to have been more emphatic than his predecessor's.
He was by name a Dissenter, but some finer veins of philosophy and imagination enriched his creed. Everywhere in his verses we recognise a majestic and ruling faith in GJ-od's magnificence, and in man's privilege of copying Him: Thus the men, "Whom nature's works can charm, with Grod himself Hold converse ; grow familiar day by day, With His conceptions, act upon His plan ; And form to His the relish of their souls.
The censure by Mr. Walker, which Johnson adopted and praised, is altogether unfounded. The "immortality of the soul" is most distinctly and repeatedly affirmed. The same spirit animates his indignant remonstrance in the " British Philippic: And, with a more devotional reverence, he bids Science Yeil thy daring eye ; Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high, In that divine abyss ; To Faith content thy beams to lend, Her hopes t' assure, her steps befriend, And light her way to bliss. We may confidently receive the assurance of Sir John Hawkins, that Akenside was a man of religion and strict virtue.
However imperfect his belief, or its exposition, might be, a religions sentiment — noble and solemn — per- vades the Poem. The present life is shown as an avenue to the future ; while the beauty and the grandeur of nature, the shadow of God Himself, are most impressively displayed ; presenting to the reader, if I may so apply the language of Alison, a key to interpret the splendid system of material signs that surrounds him ; and teaching him to look upon the world, not alone as the abode of human cares or joys, but as the temple of the Living God, in which praise is due and where service is performed.
Akenside's poetical claims are twofold; as a writer of blank verse and of odes. Johnson could not read through the "Pleasures of Imagination," but readers of the poem are found, and its fame is secured. Warton considered Akenside to be the best Greek scholar since Milton ; and the most exquisite decorations of his fancy have a classical origin. Take, for example, the description of Venus, which has the charm and the grace of an antique gem: To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, And each cserulean sister of the flood With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves To seek th' Idalian bower.
He has used his scientific knowledge with equal skill: It must be confessed that while the eye and the under- standing are thus entertained and informed, the heart and the feelings are neglected. The lover clasping the urn, and the children shrinking from the fireside story, are among the few pictures of human interest which the Poet has given to us. His beauties are of a different kind. They belong to fancy and taste, which, in the words of Addison, make everything about them clear and lovely. He has sentiments of moral dignity that ennoble the mind; and images that dart a lustre through a whole sentence.
The language of Akenside is, in the highest degree, luxuriant; it clusters about a metaphor with a blinding beauty, like a flower too thick with blossom, and often con- cealing the vase which it should embellish. Perhaps some obscurity was inseparable from the subject. He, who shows the construction of the mind, may not always be able to exhibit the fine nerve of sensation which he detects.
Barbauld observes that, as a versifier, lie is most admirable ; excelling Thomson in pomp and music, and only inferior to Milton in a few of his finest passages. In the "Hymn to the Naiads," he has drawn out the sweetest notes which the English Muse can utter.
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What a charm breathes from the following lines: Here the pause is continually varied, and always with delicious effect. In reading his odes we should remember their dates. Gray and Collins had not revived the beauty of lyric song, and the richer melodies of the former century were nearly forgotten. Johnson exclaimed in one of his paroxysms of spleen — "I see they have published a splendid edition of Akensicle's works. One bad ode may be suffered, but a number of them together makes one sick. The odes of Akenside will not unpleasantly affect a reader who appreciates good sense, clear language, and musical expression.
Occasionally the true poet is manifested in all his power, as in the Ode on the " Winter Solstice," where the sketch of the village-dame, sighing when she hears the curfew, and recollecting that the moon has gone down, while her husband is still on the road, is most pathetic and pleasing. A stanza in the verses to the " Cuckoo" is also extremely grateful to the ear: I would mention, too, the Ode to the "Evening Star," and particularly the verses on the Nightingale, as very natural and elegant: I hear her liquid tone, — Now, Hesper, guide my feet Down the red marie with moss o'ergrown, Through yon wild thicket next the plain, Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane Which leads to her retreat.
See the green space: Hark, how through many a melting note She now prolongs her lays ; How sweetly down the void they float! The breeze their magic path attends, The stars shine out, the forest bends, The wakeful heifers gaze. When Akenside ended his career, he had not gone far beyond the age which Dry den calls the summer tropic, and the long, warm, ripening day of autumn yet lingered. But there is no reason for believing that time would have mellowed his genius, or imparted to it a richer flavour.
Experience, which develops judgment, often chills fancy ; and Akenside, even at the beginning of his poetical life, had been singularly patient and laborious. XXXV later style tlie glow of his earlier pencil. His real strength lay in the poetry of eloquence and description ; and Hurdis, the friend of Cowper, did not ill-characterize the poet, when he invoked him: Rais'd by thy torrent song, we shall enjoy The loud increasing horrors of the storm, Awfully grand.
XXXV later style the glow of his earlier pencil. His real strength lay in the poetry of eloquence and description ; and Hurdis, the friend of Cowper, did not ill- characterize the poet, when he invoked him: There are certain powers in human nature which, seem to hold a middle place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral perception: Like the external senses, they relate to matter and motion ; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to those of moral approbation and dislike.
As they are the inlets of some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers hare sought means to recal the delightful percep- tions which they afford, independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave rise to the imitative or designing arts ; some of which, as painting and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were admired in nature ; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to remembrance by signs universally established and understood. But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were of course led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of the imaginative powers ; especially poetry, which, making use of language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being.
Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they of course retain their original character: The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the largest acceptation of the term ; so that whatever our imagination feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various entertainment we meet with either in poetry, painting, music, or any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are here established and explained.
In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to dis- tinguish the imagination from our other faculties ; and in the next place to characterize those original forms or properties of being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of greatness, novelty, and beauty ; and into these we may analyze every object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to the imagination.
But such an object may also include many other sources of pleasure ; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will make a stronger impression by reason of this con- currence. Besides which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, we meet with either ideas drawn from the ex- ternal senses, or truths discovered to the understanding, or illus- trations of contrivance and final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to awaken and engage the passions.
It was therefore necessary to enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure ; especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance.
After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to dis- tinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of characters is derived.
The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise either from the relations of different objects one to another, or from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts of the mate- rial and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of metaphor and wit.
As it seems in a great measure to depend on the early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, it is therefore mentioned here and its effects described. Then follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral useful- ness in life.
Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two models ; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as it is refined by Virgil in the Greorgics, and the familiar epistolary way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a greater variety of style ; it more readily engages the generality of readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation ; and, espe- cially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more concise expression.
Add to this the example of the most perfect of modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style.
This, too, ap- peared more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and harmonize the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, morals, and civil life.
The same views have also led him to introduce some sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves he makes no apology. The subject proposed — Difficulty of treating it poetically — The ideas of the divine mind, the origin of every quality pleasing to the imagination — The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men ; with its final cause — The idea of a fine imagination, and the state of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords— All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects — The pleasure from greatness, with its final cause — Pleasure from novelty or wonderfulness, with its final cause — Pleasure from beauty, with its final cause — The connexion of beauty with truth and good, applied to the conduct of life — Invitation to the study of moral philosophy — The different degrees of beauty in different species of objects: With what attractive 1 cliarms this goodly frame Of nature touches the consenting hearts Of mortal men: Attend, ye gentle powers Of musical 2 delight!
Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, i Prevailing. In which sense it has already been used in our language by writers of unquestionable authority. Goddess of the lyre, Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend And join this festive train? Be present all ye Genii, who conduct The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, New to your springs and shades: Nature's kindling breath Must fire the chosen genius ; Nature's hand Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle- wings Impatient of the painful steep, to soar High as the summit ; there to breathe at large.
These Mattering scenes, To this neglected labour court my song ; Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task To paint the finest features of the mind, And to most subtile and mysterious things Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love Of Nature and the Muses bids explore, Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, The fair poetic region, to detect Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts, 4 1 Nobler. And shade my temples with unfading flowers Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess, Where never poet gain'd a wreath before.
From Heaven my strains begin: Ere the radiant sun Sprang from the east, or 'mid. Erom the first Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, His admiration: But not alike to every mortal eye Is this great scene unveil'd. Eor since the claims Of social life, to different labours urge The active powers of man ; with wise intent The hand of Nature on peculiar minds Imprints a different bias, and to each Decrees its province in the common toil.
To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, The golden zones of heaven: But some to higher hopes 1 Were destin'd ; some within' a finer mould She wrought, and tempered with a purer name. To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds The world's harmonious volume, there to read The transcript of Himself. On every part They trace the bright impressions of his hand ; In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin form Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd 2 That uncreated beauty, which delights The Mind Supreme.
They also feel her charms, Enamour'd ; they partake the eternal joy.