The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside. Mark Akenside

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The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside - Mark Akenside

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His mansion, that pavilion fair-diffused

       Along the shady brink; in this recess

       To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370

       Till riper hours should open to his toil

       The high communion of superior minds,

       Of consecrated heroes and of gods.

       Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget

       His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld

       Celestial footsteps from his green abode.

       Oft from the radiant honours of his throne,

       He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair,

       The effluence of his glory, whom he placed

       Before his eyes for ever to behold; 380

       The goddess from whose inspiration flows

       The toil of patriots, the delight of friends;

       Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth,

       Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass,

       Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire

       Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind,

       The folded powers to open, to direct

       The growth luxuriant of his young desires,

       And from the laws of this majestic world

       To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390

       Her daily care attended, by her side

       With constant steps her gay companion stay'd,

       The fair Euphrosyné, the gentle queen

       Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights

       That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men

       And powers immortal. See the shining pair!

       Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosed

       They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.'

      I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood

       Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400

       Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower

       Of beauty: sweetest innocence illumed

       His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow

       Sate young simplicity. With fond regard

       He view'd the associates, as their steps they moved;

       The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd,

       With mild regret invoking her return.

       Bright as the star of evening she appear'd

       Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth

       O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410

       And smiles eternal from her candid eyes

       Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn

       Effusive trembling on the placid waves.

       The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils

       To bind her sable tresses: full diffused

       Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze;

       And in her hand she waved a living branch

       Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm

       The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes

       To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420

       The heavenly partner moved. The prime of age

       Composed her steps. The presence of a god,

       High on the circle of her brow enthroned,

       From each majestic motion darted awe,

       Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looks

       Benevolent and meek, confiding love

       To filial rapture soften'd all the soul.

       Free in her graceful hand she poised the sword

       Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown

       Display'd the old simplicity of pomp 430

       Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe,

       White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds,

       Her stately form invested. Hand in hand

       The immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green,

       Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light

       Gleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard,

       And through the fragrant air ethereal dews

       Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds,

       Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew

       Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440

       Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd,

       Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scan

       What object it involved. My feeble eyes

       Endured not. Bending down to earth I stood,

       With dumb attention. Soon a female voice,

       As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades,

       With sacred invocation thus began:

      'Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm

       With reins eternal guides the moving heavens,

       Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450

       I seek to finish thy divine decree.

       With frequent steps I visit yonder seat

       Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds

       Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve

       The latent honours of his generous frame;

       Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot

       From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks,

       The temple of thy glory. But not

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