Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 1, by MARK AKENSIDE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: With what attractive charms this goodly frame Last Line: And tune to attic themes the british lyre. Subject(s): Imagination; Perception; Philosophy & Philosophers; Reason; Thought; Fancy; Intellect; Rationalism; Brain; Mind; Intellectuals; Thinking | ||||||||
WITH what attractive charms this godly frame Of nature touches the consenting hearts Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores Which beauteous imitation thence derives To deck the poet's or the painter's toil, My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle powers Of musical delight! and while I sing Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, Which, by the glances of her magic eye, She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre, Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, Wilt thou, eternal Harmony! descend And join this festive train? for with thee comes The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come, Her sister Liberty will not be far. Be present all ye Genii, who conduct The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye The bloom of nature, and before him turn The gayest, happiest attitude of things. Oft have the laws of each poetic strain The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung Lay this prime subject, though importing most A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt, By dull obedience, and by creeping toil Obscure, to conquer the severe ascent Of high Parnassus. 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 Ethereal air, with bards and sages old, Immortal sons of praise. These flattering 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, 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: from heaven descends The flame of genius to the human breast, And love and beauty, and poetic joy And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun Sprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night The moon suspended her serener lamp; Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe, Or wisdom taught the sons of men her lore Then lived the Almighty One; then, deep-retired In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, The forms eternal of created things: The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe, And wisdom's mien celestial. From the first Of days on them his love divine he fixed, His admiration: till in time complete, What he admired and loved, his vital smile Unfolded into being. Hence the breath Of life informing each organic frame, Hence the green earth, and wild-resounding waves; Hence light and shade alternate; warmth and cold; And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers, And all the fair variety of things. But not alike to every mortal eye Is this great scene unveil'd; for 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: to some she gave To weigh the moment of eternal things, Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, And will's quick impulse; others by the hand She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore What healing virtue swells the tender veins Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind In balmy tears. But some to higher hopes Were destined; some within a finer mould She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame: 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's form Blooming with rosy smiles, they see pourtray'd That uncreated beauty, which delights The mind supreme. They also feel her charms, Enamour'd: they partake the eternal joy. For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string Consenting, sounded through the warbling air Unbidden strains; even so did Nature's hand To certain species of external things Attune the finer organs of the mind: So the glad impulse of congenial powers, Or of sweet sound, or fair-proportion'd form, The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, Thrills through imagination's tender frame, From nerve to nerve: all naked and alive They catch the spreading rays: till now the soul At length discloses every tuneful spring, To that harmonious movement from without Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain Diffuses its enchantment: fancy dreams Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, And vales of bliss: the intellectual power Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, And smiles: the passions, gently sooth'd away, Sink to divine repose, and love and joy Alone are waking; love and joy, serene As airs that fan the summer. O attend, Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, Whose candid bosom the refining love Of nature warms!O listen to my song! And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, And point her loveliest features to thy view. Know then, whate'er of nature's pregnant stores, Whate'er of mimic art's reflected forms, With love and admiration thus inflame The powers of fancy, her delighted sons To three illustrious orders have referr'd: Three sister-graces, whom the painter's hand, The poet's tongue, confessesthe sublime, The wonderful, the fair. I see them dawn! I see the radiant visions, where they rise, More lovely than when Lucifer displays His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, To lead the train of Phœbus and the spring. Say, why was man so eminently raised Amid the vast creation; why ordain'd Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame; But that the Omnipotent might send him forth In sight of mortal and immortal powers, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice; to exalt His generous aim to all diviner deeds; To chase each partial purpose from his breast; And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward The applauding smile of heaven? Else wherefore burns In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, That breathes from day to day sublimer things, And mocks possession? wherefore darts the mind, With such resistless ardour to embrace Majestic forms; impatient to be free, Spurning the gross control of wilful might; Proud of the strong contention of her toils; Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame? Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, And continents of sand; will turn his gaze To mark the windings of a scanty rill That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens; Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars The blue profound, and hovering round the sun Beholds him pouring the redundant stream Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway Bend the reluctant planets to absolve The fated rounds of time. Thence far effused, She darts her swiftness up the long career Of devious comets; through its burning signs Exulting, measures the perennial wheel Of nature, and looks back on all the stars, Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, Invests the orient. Now amazed she views The empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold, Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode; And fields of radiance, whose unfading light Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. Even on the barriers of the world untired, She meditates the eternal depth below; Till half recoiling, down the headlong steep She plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up In that immense of being. There her hopes Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth Of mortal man, the sovran Maker said, That not in humble nor in brief delight, Not in the fading echoes of renown, Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, The soul should find enjoyment: but from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, Till every bound at length shall disappear, And infinite perfection close the scene. Call now to mind what high capacious powers Lie folded up in man; how far beyond The praise of mortals may the eternal growth Of nature to perfection half divine Expand the blooming soul? What pity then Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth Her tender bosom; choke the streams of life, And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd Almighty wisdom; nature's happy cares The obedient heart far otherwise incline. Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power To brisker measures: witness the neglect Of all familiar prospects, though beheld With transport once; the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment; the sober zeal Of age, commenting on prodigious things. For such the bounteous providence of heaven, In every breast implanting this desire Of objects new and strange, to urge us on With unremitted labour to pursue Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul, In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words To paint its power? For this the daring youth Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, In foreign climes to rove: the pensive sage, Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired The virgin follows, with enchanted step, The mazes of some wild and wonderous tale, From morn to eve; unmindful of her form, Unmindful of the happy dress that stole The wishes of the youth, when every maid With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night The village-matron, round the blazing hearth, Suspends the infant-audience with her tales, Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes, And evil spirits: of the death-bed call Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. At every solemn pause the crowd recoil Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd With shivering sighs; till, eager for the event, Around the beldam all arrect they hang, Each trembling heart with grateful terror quell'd. But, lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp, Where Beauty, onward moving, claims the verse Her charms inspire; the freely-flowing verse In thy immortal praise, O form divine, Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun! For ever beamest on the enchanted heart Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight Poetic. Brightest progeny of heaven! How shall I trace thy features? where select The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom? Haste then, my song, through nature's wide expanse Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles, And range with him the Hesperian field, and see Where'er his fingers touch'd the fruitful grove, The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow With purple ripeness, and invest each hill As with the blushes of an evening sky? Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, Where, gliding through his daughter's honour'd shades, The smooth Peneus from his glassy flood Reflects purpureal Tempe's pleasant scene? Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan powers, Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age They play'd in secret on the shady brink With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews, And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store To thee nor Tempe shall refuse: nor watch Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits From thy free spoil. O bear then, unreproved, Thy smiling treasures to the green recess Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs Entice her forth to lend her angel-form For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid, Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn; And may the fanning breezes waft aside Thy radiant locks: disclosing as it bends With airy softness from the marble neck, The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force Of nature, and her kind paternal care Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth, With each admiring virgin, to my lyre Should throng attentive, while I point on high Where Beauty's living image, like the morn That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, Moves onward: or as Venus, when she stood Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, And each cerulean sister of the flood With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves, To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze Of young desire with rival steps pursue This charm of beauty; if the pleasing toil Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn Your favourable ear, and trust my words. I do not mean to wake the gloomy form Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb, To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean To bid the jealous Thunderer fire the heavens, Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth To fright you from your joys; my cheerful song With better omens calls you to the field, Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase, And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, Does beauty ever deign to dwell where health And active use are strangers? Is her charm 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 catch with fair hypocrisy the heart Of idle faith? O no! with better cares The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, By this illustrious image, in each kind Still most illustrious where the object holds Its native powers most perfect, she by this Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, And every charm of animated things, Are only pledges of a state sincere, The integrity and order of their frame, When all is well within, and every end Accomplish'd. Thus was beauty sent from heaven, The lovely ministress of truth and good In this dark world: for truth and good are one, And beauty dwells in them, and they in her, With like participation. Wherefore then, O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie? O wherefore with a rash impetuous aim Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire Where is the sanction of eternal truth, Or where the seal of undeceitful good, To save your search from folly! Wanting these, Lo! beauty withers in your void embrace, And with the glittering of an idiot's toy Did fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, To learn the lore of undeceitful good, And truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms Of baleful superstition guide the feet Of servile numbers, through a dreary way To their abode, through deserts, thorns and mire; And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells; To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, And to the screaming owl's accursed song Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star Your lovely search illumines. From the grove Where wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, Then should my powerful verse at once dispel Those monkish horrors: then in light divine Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps Of those whom nature charms, through blooming walks, Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, Led by their winged Genius and the choir Of laurell'd science and harmonious art, Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, Where truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, The undivided partners of her sway, With good and beauty reigns. O let not us Lull'd by luxurious pleasure's languid strain, Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage, O let us not a moment pause to join That godlike band. And if the gracious power Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, Will to my invocation breathe anew The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths, Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead, When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart Of luxury's allurement; whether firm Against the torrent and the stubborn hill To urge bold virtue's unremitted nerve, And wake the strong divinity of soul That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils Upon the lofty summit, round her brow To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, And bless heaven's image in the heart of man. Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed, Adventurous, to delineate nature's form; Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene In beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, Through various being's fair-proportion'd scale, To trace the rising lustre of her charms, From their first twilight, shining forth at length To full meridian splendour. Of degree The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth Of colours mingling with a random blaze, Doth beauty dwell. Then higher in the line And variation of determined shape, Where truth's eternal measures mark the bound Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent Unites this varied symmetry of parts With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl Shines in the concave of its azure bed, And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. Then more attractive rise the blooming forms Through which the breath of nature has infused Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers Their purple honours with the spring resume; And such the stately tree which autumn bends With blushing treasures. But more lovely still Is nature's charm, where to the full consent Of complicated members, to the bloom Of colour, and the vital change of growth, Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, And active motion speaks the temper'd soul: So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy Salute their fellows. Thus doth duty dwell There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, Where dawns the high expression of a mind: By steps conducting our enraptured search To that eternal origin, whose power, Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, Like rays effulging from the parent sun, This endless mixture of her charms diffused, Mind, mind alone (bear witness, earth and heaven!) The living fountains in itself contains Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand, Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned, Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, Invites the soul to never-fading joy. Look then abroad through nature, to the range Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres Wheeling unshaken through the void immense; And speak, O man! does this capacious scene With half that kindling majesty dilate Thy strong conceptions, as when Brutus rose Refulgent from the stroke of Cæsar's fate, Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country, hail! For, lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn, In nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush Of him who strives with fortune to be just? The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? Or the mild majesty of private life, Where peace with ever-blooming olive crowns The gate; where honour's liberal hands effuse Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings Of innocence and love protect the scene? Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound Where nature works in secret; view the beds Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms Of atoms moving with incessant change Their elemental round; behold the seeds Of being, and the energy of life Kindling the mass with ever-active flame: Then to the secrets of the working mind Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour That saw the heavens created: then declare If aught were found in those external scenes To move thy wonder now. For what are all The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows The superficial impulse; dull their charms, And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. Not so the moral species, nor the powers Of genius and design; the ambitious mind There sees herself: by these congenial forms Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act She bends each nerve, and meditates, well-pleased, Her features in the mirror. For of all The inhabitants of earth, to man alone Creative wisdom gave to lift his eye To truth's eternal measures; thence to frame The sacred laws of action and of will, Discerning justice from unequal deeds, And temperance from folly. But beyond This energy of truth, whose dictates bind Assenting reason, the benignant sire, To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, Has added bright imagination's rays: Where virtue, rising from the awful depth Of truth's mysterious bosom, doth forsake The unadorn'd condition of her birth; And dress'd by fancy in ten thousand hues, Assumes a various feature, to attract, With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires With purest wishes, from the pensive shade Beholds her moving, like a virgin-muse That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme Of harmony and wonder: while among The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, And through the rolls of memory appeals To ancient honour, or in act serene,. Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword Of public power, from dark ambition's reach To guard the sacred volume of the laws. Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps, Well-pleased, I follow through the sacred paths Of nature and of science; nurse divine Of all heroic deeds and fair desires! O let the breath of thy extended praise Inspire my kindling bosom to the height Of this untempted theme! Nor be my thoughts Presumptuous counted, if amid the calm That soothes this vernal evening into smiles, I steal impatient from the sordid haunts Of strife and low ambition, to attend Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned. Descend, propitious I to my favour'd eye; Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air, As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth To see thee rend the pageants of his throne; And at the lightning of thy lifted spear Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way Through fair Lyceum's walk, the green retreats Of Academus, and the thymy vale, Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, Ilissus pure devolved his tuneful stream In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store Of these auspicious fields, may I, unblamed, Transplant some living blossoms to adorn My native clime: while far above the flight Of fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise Of nature, while to my compatriot youth I point the high example of thy sons, And tune to Attic themes the British lyre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MILLE ET UN SENTIMENTS (PREMIERS CENTS) by DENISE DUHAMEL SUNDAY AFTERNOON by CLARENCE MAJOR I BROOD ABOUT SOME CONCEPTS, FOR EXAMPLE by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER EASY LESSONS IN GEOPHAGY by KENNETH REXROTH GENTLEMEN, I ADDRESS YOU PUBLICLY by KENNETH REXROTH ON FLOWER WREATH HILL: 1 by KENNETH REXROTH THE VIRTUOSO; IN IMITATION OF SPENCER'S STYLE AND STANZA by MARK AKENSIDE |
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