Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/28

14 Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untir'd The virgin follows, with inchanted step, The mazes of some wild and wondrous 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 pin'd. 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 To him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls Ris'n 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 murd'rer's bed. At every solemn pause the croud recoil Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd With shivering sighs: till eager for th' event, Around the beldame all arrect they hang, Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd.


 * But lo! disclos'd in all her smiling pomp,

Where onward moving claims the verse Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse In thy immortal praise, O form divine, Smooths