Quotes by Mark Akenside

Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps The lamp of Science through the jealous maze Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal Her secret honours: whether in the sky, The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 That wheel the pensile planets round the year; Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. What, when to raise the meditated scene, The flame of passion, through the struggling soul Deep-kindled, shows across that sudden blaze The object of its rapture, vast of size, With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140 What, like a storm from their capacious bed The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might Of these eruptions, working from the depth Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame Even to the base; from every naked sense Of pain or pleasure, dissipating all Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks Her genuine language, and the words of men, 150 Big with the very motion of their souls, Declare with what accumulated force The impetuous nerve of passion urges on The native weight and energy of things. Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims, Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holds Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse Rouses the mind's whole fabric; with supplies Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 Intensely poised, and polishes anew By that collision all the fine machine: Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees Encumbering, choke at last what heaven design'd For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.-- But say, does every passion thus to man Administer delight? That name indeed Becomes the rosy breath of love; becomes The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand Of admiration: but the bitter shower 170 That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave; But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart Of panting indignation, find we there To move delight?

The sole sad refuge of thy baffled art To act a statesman's dull, exploded part, Renounce the praise no longer in thy power, Display thy virtue, though without a dower, Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, And shut thy eyes that others may be blind.-- Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile, When shameless mouths your majesty defile, 180 Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew, And cast their own impieties on you. For witness, Freedom, to whose sacred power My soul was vow'd from reason's earliest hour, How have I stood exulting, to survey My country's virtues, opening in thy ray! How with the sons of every foreign shore The more I match'd them, honour'd hers the more! O race erect! whose native strength of soul, Which kings, nor priests, nor sordid laws control, 190 Bursts the tame round of animal affairs, And seeks a nobler centre for its cares; Intent the laws of life to comprehend, And fix dominion's limits by its end. Who, bold and equal in their love or hate, By conscious reason judging every state, The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise: Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view Fastidious Grandeur lift his solemn brow, 200 Or, all awake at pity's soft command, Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand: Thence large of heart, from envy far removed, When public toils to virtue stand approved, Not the young lover fonder to admire, Not more indulgent the delighted sire; Yet high and jealous of their free-born name, Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, Where'er Oppression works her wanton sway, Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay. 210 But if to purchase Curio's sage applause, My country must with him renounce her cause, Quit with a slave the path a patriot trod, Bow the meek knee, and kiss the regal rod; Then still, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail, Nor let his zeal, nor let his subject fail: Else, ere he change the style, bear me away To where the Gracchi [2], where the Bruti stay! O long revered, and late resign'd to shame!

8 Close at his back, or whispering in his ear, There stood a sprite ycleped Phantasy; Which, wheresoe'er he went, was always near: Her look was wild, and roving was her eye; Her hair was clad with flowers of every dye; Her glistering robes were of more various hue Than the fair bow that paints the cloudy sky, Or all the spangled drops of morning dew; Their colour changing still at every different view. 9 Yet in this shape all tides she did not stay, Various as the chameleon that she bore; Now a grand monarch with a crown of hay, Now mendicant in silks and golden ore: A statesman, now equipp'd to chase the boar, Or cowled monk, lean, feeble, and unfed; A clown-like lord, or swain of courtly lore; Now scribbling dunce, in sacred laurel clad, Or papal father now, in homely weeds array'd. 10 The wight whose brain this phantom's power doth fill, On whom she doth with constant care attend, Will for a dreadful giant take a mill, Or a grand palace in a hog-sty find: (From her dire influence me may heaven defend!) All things with vitiated sight he spies; Neglects his family, forgets his friend, Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, And eagerly pursues imaginary joys. AMBITION AND CONTENT. A FABLE. 'Optat quietem.'-HOR. While yet the world was young, and men were few, Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew, In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd, Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: No sumptuous fabrics yet were seen to rise, Nor gushing fountains taught to invade the skies; With nature, art had not begun the strife, Nor swelling marble rose to mimic life; No pencil yet had learn'd to express the fair; The bounteous earth was all their homely care. 10 Then did Content exert her genial sway, And taught the peaceful world her power to obey-- Content, a female of celestial race, Bright and complete in each celestial grace. Serenely fair she was, as rising day, And brighter than the sun's meridian ray; Joy of all hearts, delight of every eye, Nor grief nor pain appear'd when she was by; Her presence from the wretched banish'd care, Dispersed the swelling sigh, and stopp'd the falling tear.

Nor could all the gold And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate The mournful story. Haply some fair maid May hold it in remembrance, and be taught That riches cannot pay for truth or love. IV. O youths and virgins: O declining eld: O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam In exile; ye who through the embattled field Seek bright renown; or who for nobler palms Contend, the leaders of a public cause; Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue Told you the fashion of your own estate, The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round His monument with reverence while ye stand, Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; Who walk'd in every path of human life, Felt every passion; and to all mankind Doth now, will ever, that experience yield Which his own genius only could acquire.' V. GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS P.G. A.M. A. VI. FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE. Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, While Thames among his willows from thy view Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene Around contemplate well. This is the place Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid Those thanks which God appointed the reward Of public virtue. And if chance thy home Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt They owe their ancestors; and make them swear To pay it, by transmitting down entire Those sacred rights to which themselves were born.

3 O evil foresight and pernicious care! Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal? Shall we the lessons of thy pen compare With private honour or with public zeal? Whence, then, at things divine those darts of scorn? Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne For sacred truth, a prey to laughter given? What fiend, what foe of Nature urged thy arm The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm, To push this earth adrift and leave it loose from Heaven? 4 Ye godlike shades of legislators old, Ye who made Rome victorious, Athens wise, Ye first of mortals with the bless'd enroll'd, Say, did not horror in your bosoms rise, When thus, by impious vanity impell'd, A magistrate, a monarch, ye beheld Affronting civil order's holiest bands, Those bands which ye so labour'd to improve, Those hopes and fears of justice from above, Which tamed the savage world to your divine commands? ODE XIV. THE COMPLAINT. 1 Away! away! Tempt me no more, insidious love: Thy soothing sway Long did my youthful bosom prove: At length thy treason is discern'd, At length some dear-bought caution earn'd: Away! nor hope my riper age to move. 2 I know, I see Her merit. Needs it now be shown, Alas, to me? How often, to myself unknown, The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid Have I admired! How often said, What joy to call a heart like hers one's own! 3 But, flattering god, O squanderer of content and ease, In thy abode Will care's rude lesson learn to please? O say, deceiver, hast thou won Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? ODE XV. ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. (UNFINISHED.) 1 Meek Honour, female shame, Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, From Albion dost thou fly, Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? O beauty's only friend, Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; Who selfish, bold desire Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; Alas, of thee forlorn What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend?

Different minds Incline to different objects; one pursues The vast alone, [Endnote LL] the wonderful, the wild; Another sighs for harmony, and grace, And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 550 The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; Amid the mighty uproar, while below The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad Prom some high cliff, superior, and enjoys The elemental war. But Waller longs, [Endnote MM] All on the margin of some flowery stream To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain Resound soft-warbling all the livelong day; Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. Such and so various are the tastes of men. Oh! bless'd of Heaven, whom not the languid songs Of Luxury, the siren! not the bribes Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store Of Nature fair Imagination culls To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all Of mortal offspring can attain the heights Of envied life; though only few possess Patrician treasures or imperial state; Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, With richer treasures and an ampler state, Endows at large whatever happy man 580 Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns The princely dome, the column, and the arch, The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold, Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, 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.