The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

Name: The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside
Author: Akenside, Mark

Akenside, Mark

English poetry -- 18th century

Should throng attentive, and receive once more                380
  Their influence, unobscured by any cloud
  Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand
  Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm
  Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn
  To join his dictates to the genuine strain
  Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear
  Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band
  Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish
  And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene
  Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured                     390
  By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil
  Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn
  Your favourable ear, and trust my words.
  I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat,
  Presenting Superstition's gloomy form,
  To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean
  To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens,
  Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth,
  And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song
  With happier omens calls you to the field,                    400
  Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase,
  And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know),
  Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use
  And aptitude are strangers? is her praise
  Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends
  Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean
  This pleasing call the herald of a lie,
  To hide the shame of discord and disease,
  And win each fond admirer into snares,
  Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence                   410
  The general mother, conscious how infirm
  Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill,
  Thus, to the choice of credulous desire,
  Doth objects the completest of their tribe
  Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank
  Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring,
  Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask
  The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill
  Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock,
  Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn                 420
  And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool
  With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine
  Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage
  Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl
  Report of her, as of the swelling grape
  Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem
  When first it meets the sun. Or what are all
  The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd?
  Are they not pledges of a state entire,
  Where native order reigns, with every part                    430
  In health, and every function well perform'd?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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The Poetical Works of Mark AkensideAkenside, Mark

General

The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

Akenside, Mark

English poetry -- 18th century

Should throng attentive, and receive once more                380
  Their influence, unobscured by any cloud
  Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand
  Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm
  Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn
  To join his dictates to the genuine strain
  Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear
  Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band
  Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish
  And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene
  Of magic bright and fleeting, are allured                     390
  By various Beauty, if the pleasing toil
  Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn
  Your favourable ear, and trust my words.
  I do not mean on bless'd Religion's seat,
  Presenting Superstition's gloomy form,
  To dash your soothing hopes; I do not mean
  To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens,
  Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth,
  And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song
  With happier omens calls you to the field,                    400
  Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase,
  And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know),
  Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use
  And aptitude are strangers? is her praise
  Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends
  Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean
  This pleasing call the herald of a lie,
  To hide the shame of discord and disease,
  And win each fond admirer into snares,
  Foil'd, baffled? No; with better providence                   410
  The general mother, conscious how infirm
  Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill,
  Thus, to the choice of credulous desire,
  Doth objects the completest of their tribe
  Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank
  Clothed in the soft magnificence of Spring,
  Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask
  The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill
  Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock,
  Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn                 420
  And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool
  With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine
  Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage
  Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl
  Report of her, as of the swelling grape
  Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem
  When first it meets the sun. Or what are all
  The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd?
  Are they not pledges of a state entire,
  Where native order reigns, with every part                    430
  In health, and every function well perform'd?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside

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