MARK AKENSIDE

FROM THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION

Book I

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;

60

Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorned the globe,
Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore;
Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep-retired

In his unfathomed essence, viewed the forms,

65

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

70

Of life informing each organic frame,

75 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

80 Is this great scene unveiled. 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

85 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,

90 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

Or herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn
95 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 tempered with a purer flame.
To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds

100 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 portrayed
That uncreated beauty, which delights
The Mind supreme. They also feel her charms,
Enamoured; they partake the eternal joy.

For as old Memnon's image, long renowned
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 proportioned 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 soothed away,

105

ΙΙΟ

115

120

125

130 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

135 Of Nature warms, Oh! 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,

140 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, 145 The poet's tongue, confesses; the 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, 150 To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring.

O'ER yonder eastern hill the twilight pale
Walks forth from darkness; and the God of day,
With bright Astræa seated by his side,

Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs,
Ye Nymphs, ye blue-eyed progeny of Thames,
Who now the mazes of this rugged heath

Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long
Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air,
Your lonely murmurs, tarry, and receive
My offered lay. To pay you homage due,
I leave the gates of sleep; nor shall my lyre
Too far into the splendid hours of morn
Engage your audience: my observant hand
Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam
Approach you. To your subterranean haunts
Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care
The humid sands; to loosen from the soil
The bubbling sources; to direct the rills
To meet in wider channels; or beneath
Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon
To slumber, sheltered from the burning heaven.

My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye
That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand
Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes
Not unregarded of celestial powers,

I frame their language; and the Muses deign
To guide the pious tenor of my lay.
The Muses (sacred by their gifts divine)
In early days did to my wandering sense
Their secrets oft reveal; oft my raised ear

5

ΙΟ

15

20

240