Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/68

54 Thy tender charge. That when despair shall grasp His agonizing bosom, he may learn, Then he may learn to love the gracious hand Alone sufficient in that hour of ill, To save his feeble spirit; then confess Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair! When all the plagues that wait the deadly will Of this avenging daemon, all the storms Of night infernal, serve but to display The energy of thy superior charms With mildest aw triumphant o'er his rage, And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.


 * Here ceas'd that awful voice, and soon I felt

The cloudy curtain of refreshing eve Was clos'd once more, from that immortal fire Shelt'ring my eye-lids. Looking up, I view'd A vast gigantic spectre striding on Thro' murm'ring thunders and a waste of clouds, With dreadful action. Black as night his brow Relentless frowns involv'd. His savage limbs With sharp impatience violent he writh'd, A s thro' convulsive anguish; and his hand Arm'd with a scorpion-lash, full oft he rais'd In madness to his bosom; while his eyes Rain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shook The void with horror. Silent by his side The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd Her