Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/39

Book I. Refulgent from the stroke of Cæsar's fate, Amid the croud 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 min'ral treasure, and th' 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 Rh