Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/108

94 And due repose, he loiters to behold The sunshine gleaming as thro' amber clouds, O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, His rude expression and untutor'd airs, Beyond the pow'r of language, will unfold The form of beauty smiling at his heart, How lovely! how commanding! But tho' heav'n In every breast hath sown these early seeds Of love and admiration, yet in vain, Without fair culture's kind parental aid, Without inlivening suns, and genial show'rs, And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope The tender plant should rear its blooming head Or yield the harvest promis'd in its spring. Nor yet will every soil with equal stores Repay the tiller's labour; or attend His will, obsequious, whether to produce The olive, or the laurel. Diff'rent minds Incline to different objects: one pursues, The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild; Another sighs for harmony, and grace, And gentlest beauty. Hence when lightening fires The arch of heav'n, 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