Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/71

Rh This horrid visage hither to pursue My steps; that so thy nature may discern Its real good, and what alone can save Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill From folly and despair. O yet belov'd! Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm Thy scatter'd pow'rs; nor fatal deem the rage Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, While I am here to vindicate thy toil, Above the generous question of thy arm, Brave by thy fears, and in thy weakness strong, This hour he triumphs; but confront his might, And dare him to the combat, then with ease Disarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resigns To bondage and to scorn: while thus inur'd By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, Th' immortal mind, superior to his fate, Amid the outrage of external things, Firm as the solid base of this great world, Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds! Ye waves! ye thunders! rowl your tempest on; Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky! Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene, The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck, And ever stronger as the storms advance, Firm thro' the closing ruin holds his way, Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal. Rh