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 THE 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 OF 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARK AKENSIDE, M.D. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 
 A CRITICAL ESSAY ON THE POEM, 
 
 BY MRS. BARBAULD* 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL, AND W. DAVIES > 
 IN THE STRAND, 
 
 By W. Flint, Old Bailey. 
 
 1806. 
 
TR3312, 
 
 G 
 
 _5 
 
ESSAY 
 
 AKENSXDE's POEM 
 
 PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 DIDACTIC, or preceptive Poetry, seems to inw 
 elude a solecism, for the end of Poetry is to please, 
 and of Didactic precept the object is instruction. 
 It is, however,, a species of Poetry which has been 
 cultivated from the earliest stages of society ; at 
 first, probably, for the simple purpose of retaining, 
 by means of the regularity of measure, and the 
 charms of harmony, the precepts of agricultural 
 wisdom, and the aphorisms of economical experi- 
 ence. When Poetry came to be cultivated for it* 
 
2 ON AKEtfSIDE'S 
 
 own sake, it was natural to esteem the Didactic, as 
 in that view it certainly is, as a species of inferior 
 merit compared with those which are more peculi- 
 arly the work of the imagination ; and accordingly . 
 in the more splendid era of our own Poetry it has 
 been much less cultivated than many others. After- 
 wards,, when Poetry was become an art, and the 
 more obvious sources of description and adventure 
 were in some measure exhausted, the Didactic was 
 resorted to y as affording that novelty and variety 
 which began to be the great desideratum in works of 
 fancy. This species of writing is likewise favoured by 
 the diffusion of knowledge, by which many subjects 
 become proper for general reading, which in a less 
 informed state of society would have savoured of 
 pedantry and abstruse speculation. For poetry can- 
 not descend to teach the elements of any art or 
 science, or confine itself to that regular arrange- 
 ment and clear brevity which suits the communica- 
 tion of unknown truths. In fact, the Muse would 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 3- 
 
 make a very indifferent school-mistress. Whoever 
 therefore reads a Didactic Poem ought to come to 
 it with a previous knowledge of his subject 3 and 
 whoever writes one, ought to suppose such a know- 
 ledge in his readers. If he is obliged to explain 
 technical terms, to refer continually to critical 
 notes, and to follow a system step by step with the 
 patient exactness of a teacher, his Poem, however 
 laboured, will be a bad Poem. His office is rather 
 to throw a lustre on such prominent parts of his 
 system as are most susceptible of poetical ornament, 
 and to kindle the enthusiasm of those feelings which 
 the truths he is conversant with are fitted to inspire. 
 In that beautiful Poem, the Essay on Man, the 
 system of the author, if in reality he had any system, 
 is little attended to, but those passages which 
 breathe the love of Virtue are read with delight, and 
 fix themselves on the memory. Where the reader 
 has this previous knowledge of the subject, which 
 
 we have mentioned as necessary, the art of th« 
 B % 
 
4 ON AKENSIDt'Sf 
 
 Poet becomes itself a source of pleasure, and some- 
 times in proportion to the remoteness of the subject 
 forms the more obvious province of Poetry; we are 
 delighted to find with how much dexterity the artist 
 of verse can avoid a technical term, how neatly he 
 can turn an uncouth word, and with how much 
 grace embellish a scientific idea. Who does not 
 admire the infinite art with which Dr. Darwin 
 has described the machine of Sir Richard Ark- 
 wright ? His verse is a piece of mechanism a» 
 complete in its kind as that which he describes. 
 Allured perhaps too much by this artificial species 
 of excellence, and by the hopes of novelty, hardly 
 any branch of knowledge has been so abstruse, or 
 so barren of delight as not to have afforded a 
 subject to the Didactic Poet. Even the loath- 
 someness of disease, and the dry maxims of medical 
 knowledge, have been decorated with the charms of 
 poetry. Many of these pieces, however, owe all 
 their entertainment to frequent digressions. Where 
 
PLEASURES OJT IMAGINATION. f 
 
 these arise naturally out of the subject, as th< 
 description of a sheep-shearing feast in Dyer, or the 
 praises of Italy in the Georgics, they are not only 
 allowable but graceful ; but if forced, as is the story 
 of Orpheus and Eurydice in the same Poem, 
 they can be considered in no other light than that of 
 beautiful monsters, and injure the piece they are 
 meant to adorn. The subject of a Didactic Poem 
 therefore ought to be such as is in itself attractive to 
 the man of taste, for otherwise, all attempts to maka 
 it so by adventitious ornaments, will be but like 
 loading with jewels and drapery a figure originally 
 defective and ill made. 
 
 Of all ike subjects which have engaged the atten* 
 tion of Didactic Poets, there is not perhaps a hap* 
 pier than that made choice of by Akensi.de, The 
 Pleasures of Imagination, in which every step of 
 the disquisition calls up objects of the most attractive 
 kind, and Fancy is made as it were to hold a mirror 
 to her own charms. Imagination is tho very souics 
 
6 ON akenside's 
 
 and well-head of Poetry, and nothing forced or 
 foreign to the Muse could easily flow from such a 
 subject. Accordingly we see that the author has 
 kept close to his system, and has admitted neither 
 episode nor digression : the allegory in the second 
 book, which is introduced for the purpose of 
 illustrating his theory, being all that can properly 
 be called ornament in this whole Poem. It must 
 be acknowledged, however, that engaging as his 
 subject is to minds prepared to examine it, to the 
 generality of readers it must appear dry and ab- 
 struse. It is a work which offers us entertainment, 
 •but not of that easy kind amidst which the mind 
 remains passive, and has nothing to do but to 
 receive impressions. Those who have studied the 
 metaphysics of mind, and who are accustomed to 
 investigate abstract ideas, will read it with a lively 
 pleasure; but those who seek mere amusement in 
 a Poem, will find many far inferior ones better 
 suited to their purpose. The judicious admirer of 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 7 
 
 Akenside will not call people from the fields and 
 the highways to partake of his feast ; he will wish 
 none to read that are not capable of understanding 
 him. 
 
 The ground-work of The Pleasures of Imagination 
 is to be found in Addison's Essays on the same 
 subject, published in the Spectator. Except in the 
 book which treats on Ridicule, and even of that the 
 hint is there given, our author follows nearly the 
 same track; and he is indebted to them not only 
 for the leading thoughts and grand division of his 
 subject, but for much of the colouring also : for the 
 papers of Addison are wrought up with so much 
 elegance of language, and adorned with so many 
 beautiful illustrations, that they are equal to the 
 most finished Poem. Perhaps the obligations of the 
 Poet to the Essay-writer are not sufficiently adverted 
 to, the latter being only slightly mentioned in the 
 preface to ike Poem. It is not meant, however, to 
 insinuate that Akenside had not various other 
 
$ ©N AKENSIDE*S 
 
 sources of his ideas. He sat down to this work, 
 which was published at the early age of three and 
 twenty, warm from the schools of ancient philosophy, 
 whose spirit he had deeply imbibed, and full of 
 enthusiasm for the treasures of Greek and Roman 
 literature. The w orks of no author have a more 
 classic air than those of our Poet. His hymn to 
 the Naiads shows th£ most intimate acquaintance 
 with their mythology. Their laws, their arts, their 
 liberty, were equally objects of his warm admiration, 
 and are frequently referred to in various parts of his 
 Poems. He was fond of the Platonic philosophy, 
 and mingled with the splendid visions of the Academic 
 school, ideas of the fair and beautiful, in morals and 
 in taste, gathered from the writings of Shaftes- 
 bury, Hutchinson, and others of that stamp, 
 who then very much engaged the notice of the public. 
 Educated in the university of Edinburgh, he joined 
 to his classic literature the keen discriminating 
 spirit of metaphy sic inquiry j an:l the taste for moral 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 9 
 
 beauty which has so much distinguished our Northern 
 seminaries, and which the celebrity of their pro* 
 fessors, and the genius of the place, has never 
 failed of communicating to their disciples. Thus 
 prepared, by nature with genius, and by education 
 with the previous studies and habits of thinking, 
 he was peculiarly fitted for writing a philosophical 
 Poem* 
 
 The first lines contain the definition of the subject, 
 winch he has judiciously varied from his master, 
 Addison,, who expressly confines the pleasures of 
 imagination to u such as arise from visible objects 
 only ;" and divides them into u the primary plea™ 
 sures of the imagination, which entirely proceed 
 from such objects as are before our eyes, and those 
 secondary pleasures of the imagination which How 
 from the ideas of visible objects, when the objects 
 are not actually before the eye, but are called up 
 into our memories, or formed into agreeable visions 
 ,jpf thirgs that are eidier absent or iictitioas*" This 
 
10 <JN AKENSIDE'S 
 
 ^definition seems to exclude a blind man from any 
 share whatever of those pleasures : and yet -who 
 Tvould deny that the elegant mind of Blacklock 
 was capable of receiving, and even of imparting them. 
 in no small degree? Our author, therefore, includes 
 every source, by which, through any of our senses or 
 perceptions, we receive notices of the world around 
 us ; as well as the reflex pleasures derived from the 
 imitative arts. 
 
 With what attractive charms this goodly frame 
 Of nature touches the consenting hearts 
 Of mortal men, and what the pleasing stores 
 Which beauteous Imitation thence derives 
 To deck the Poet's or the Painter's toil, 
 My verse unfolds. 
 After this clear and concise definition, and alively 
 and appropriate invocation to the powers of Fancy, 
 guided by Truth and Liberty, the author begins by 
 unfolding the Platonic idea that the universe, with 
 all its forms of material beauty, was called into 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 11 
 
 "being from its prototype, existing from all eternity in 
 the Divine Mind. The different propensities that 
 human beings are born with to various pursuits, are 
 enumerated in some very beautiful lines, and those 
 are declared to be the most noble which lead a chosen 
 few to the love and contemplation of the Supreme 
 Beauty, by the love and contemplation of his works. 
 The Poet thus immediately, and at the very outset, 
 dignifies his theme, by connecting it with the sub- 
 limest feelings the human mind is capable of enter- 
 staining, feelings without which the various scenes of 
 this beautiful universe degenerate into gaudy shows, 
 fit to catch the eye of children, but uninteresting 
 to the heart and affections ; and those laws and pro- 
 perties about which Philosophy busies herself, into a 
 bewildering mass of unconnected experiments and 
 independent facts. The lines afford more than one 
 example of climax, graceful repetition, and richness 
 of poetic language. The subject is then branched out 
 into the three grand divisions marked by Add is ok, 
 
12 ON AKENSIDE'f 
 
 the Sublime, the Wonderful, and the Beautiful. 
 Each is exemplified with equal judgment and taste, 
 but the sublime is perhaps expressed with most 
 energy, as it certainly was most congenial to the. 
 miud of our author. The passage, of which the 
 thought is borrowed from Longijnus, Say uhy zzas 
 man so eminently raised, is almost unequalled in, 
 grandeur of thought and loftiness of expression, yet 
 it has not the appearance, as some other parts of the 
 Poem have, of being laboured into excellence, but 
 rather of being throw r n oiF at once amidst the swell 
 and fervency of a kindled imagination. The iinal 
 cause of each of these propensities is happily insi- 
 nuated ; of the sense of the sublime, to lead us to 
 the contemplation of the Supreme Being ; of that of 
 novelty to awaken us to constant activity ; of beauty 
 to mark out to us the objects most perfect in their 
 kind. Thus does he make Philosophy and Poetry to 
 go hand in hand. The exemplification of the love 
 «f novel 'y in the audience of the village matron, who 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGIN ATIOtf. 1$ 
 
 tells of witching rhymes and evil spirits^ is highly 
 wrought. The author, however, had doubtless 
 in his mind not only the Essays of Addison^ 
 which were immediately under his eye, but that 
 - passage in another paper where he represents the 
 circle at his landlady's closing their ranks, and 
 crowding round the fire at the conclusion of every 
 Story of ghosts : Around the beldam all ar red they* 
 hang ; Congealed with shivering sighs^ very happily 
 expresses the effects of that kind of terror, which 
 makes a man shrink into himself, and feel afraid 3 
 as it were, to draw a full inspiration. It may b$ 
 doubted, however, whether the attraction which is 
 felt towards these kind of sensations when they risa 
 to terror, can be fairly referred to the love of 
 novelty. It seems rather to depend on that charm, 
 afterwards touched upon, which is attached to every 
 thing that strongly stirs and agitates the mind. la 
 his description of Beauty, which is adorned with all 
 the graces of the chaster Venus ; the author take* 
 
14 ON akenside's 
 
 occasion to aim a palpable stroke at the Night 
 Thoughts of Dr. W uno, which are here cha- 
 racterized by u the ghostly gloom of graves and 
 hoary vaults and cloistered cells, by walking with 
 spectres through the midnight shade, and attuning 
 the dreadful workings of his heart to the accursed 
 song of the screaming owl." The same allusion is 
 repeated in one of his Odes : 
 
 66 Nor where the boding raven chaunts, 
 Nor near the owl's uuhallow'd haunts 
 
 Will she (the Muse) her cares employ;. 
 She flies from ruins, and from tombs, 
 From Superstition's horrid glooms, 
 To day-light and to joy." 
 This antipathy is not surprising; for never were 
 two Poets more contrasted. Our author had more 
 of taste and judgment, Young more of originality. 
 Akenside maintains throughout an uniform dignity, 
 Young has been characteristically described in a 
 late Poem as one in whom 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATIONS t5 
 
 Still gleams and still expires the cloudy day 
 
 Of genuine Poetry. 
 The genius of the one was clouded over with the 
 deepest glooms of Calvinism, to which system, how- 
 ever, he owed some of his most striking beauties. 
 The religion of the other, all at least that appears 
 of it, and all indeed that could with propriety ap- 
 pear in such a Poem 5 is the purest Theism ; liberal, 
 cheerful, and sublime; or, if admitting any mixture, 
 he seems inclined to tincture it with the mysticism 
 of Plato, and the gay fables of ancient mythology. 
 The one declaims against infidels, the other against 
 monks; the one resembles the Gothic, the other the 
 Grecian architecture ; the one has been read with 
 deep interest by many who, when they have aban- 
 doned the tenets of orthodoxy, can scarcely bear to 
 re-peruse him ; the other, dealing more in general 
 truths, will always be read with pleasure, though he 
 will never make so deep an impression. 
 
 The Poem goes on to trace the connection of beauty 
 with truth, by showing that all the beauty we admire 
 
16 ON AKENSIDE'S 
 
 in vegetable or animal life results from the fitnesa 
 of the object to the use for which it is intended, and 
 serves as a kind of stamp, set by the Creator to point 
 out the health, soundness, and perfection of the 
 form in which it resides. This leads him on to 
 speak of moral beauty, and tracing the regular gra- 
 dations of beauty through colour, shape, symmetry, 
 and grace, to its highest character in the expression 
 of moral feelings, he breaks out into an animated 
 apostrophe, 
 
 Mind, mind alone — the living fountain in itself 
 contains 
 
 Of beauteous or sublime. 
 
 The poem continues in a high strain of nobte 
 enthusiasm to the end of the book, and concludes 
 with an invocation to the genius of ancient Greece, 
 with whose philosophy and high sense of liberty he 
 was equally enamoured. It is easy for the reader who 
 is conversant in the writings of Shaftesbury and 
 Hutchinson to perceive how much their elegant 
 and fascinating system is adapted to ennoble our 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION 17 
 
 author's subject, and how much the Pleasures of 
 Imagination are raised in value and importance by 
 building the throne of Virtue so near the bower of 
 Beauty. The book is complete in itself; and if 
 we may be allowed to hazard a conjecture, contains 
 nearly the whole of what the author on the first 
 "view might think necessary to his subject. 
 
 The second book opens with a complaint found- 
 ed, perhaps, rather in a partiality for the ancients 
 than attention to fact, of the disunion in modern 
 times of Philosophy and Poetry. To the same clas- 
 sic prejudice (to which a good scholar is very prone} 
 may be attributed the mention of the courtly com- 
 pliments which debased the verse of Tasso ; and 
 the superstitious legends which employed the pencil 
 of Raphael in contradistinction to the works of 
 the ancients, as if, in sober truth, any one was 
 prepared to assert that there was less flattery in the 
 Augustan age, and less superstition in the idle my- 
 thology of Homer and Ovid. Such prejudices 
 c i 
 
18 ON akenside's 
 
 ought to be laid aside with thegradus of the school- 
 boy. The Poet proceeds to consider the accession to 
 the Pleasures of the Imagination from adventitious 
 circumstances, of which he gives various instances ; 
 that of the Newtonian theory of the rainbow seems 
 too abstruse even for a philosophical Poem; it may 
 be doubted whether, if understood, it is of a nature 
 to mix well with the pleasure of colours; it cer- 
 tainly does not accord well with that of verse. 
 The influence of Passion is next considered, and the 
 mysterious pleasure which is mixed with the ener- 
 gies and emotions of those passions that are in their 
 own nature painful. To solve this problem, which 
 has been one in all ages, a long allegory is intro- 
 duced, which, though wrought up with a good deal 
 of the decoration of Poetry 3 is nearly as difficult to 
 comprehend as the problem itself. It begins with 
 presenting a scene of desolation, where the parched 
 adder dies ; this vanishes, and another is presented. 
 k What we hoped to have heard from the Poet, we 
 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 19 
 
 are directed to learn from old Harmodius, Haiu 
 modius is only introduced to refer us to the Genius ? 
 and the Genius shifts his scenes like the pictures of 
 a magic lantern, before he explains to us the scope 
 and purport of the visions. The figures of Pleasure 
 and Virtue are in a good measure copied from the 
 choice of Hercules, only that, as Euphrosyne 
 is the Goddess of innocent pleasure, every thing 
 voluptuous is left out of the picture. The descrip- 
 tion of the son of Nemesis is wrought up with 
 much strength of colouring. The story is in fact 
 the introduction of evil, accounted for by the ne- 
 cessity of training the pupil of Providence to the 
 love of virtue, the supreme good, by withdrawing 
 from him for a while the allurements of pleasure; 
 but why his very suffering should be attended with 
 pleasure, which was the phenomenon to be ac- 
 counted for, is not so clearly made out. We are told 
 indeed that the youth is willing to bear the frowns 
 of the son of Nemesis in all their horrors, provided 
 c % 
 
20 ON akenside's 
 
 Euphrosyne will bless him with her smiles, that 
 is to say. he is willing to be miserable provided he 
 may be happy at the same time. Upon this Eu- 
 phrosyne appears, and declares that she will al- 
 ways be present for the future, whenever, supported 
 by Virtue, he sustains a combat with Pain. So far 
 indeed we may gather from this representation, that 
 pleasure is always annexed to the exercise of our 
 moral feelings, which is probably the true account 
 of the matter: but this truth is rather darkened than 
 illustrated by the fable, which does not satisfactorily 
 explain how the connection is produced. The alle- 
 gory is not very consistent in another place, where 
 we are told that Virtue had left the youth, while at 
 the same time sweetest innocence illumed his bashful 
 eyes. He had already fallen, and yet he had not 
 lost his innocence; the storm of wrath which falls 
 upon him is therefore unaccounted for. Upon the 
 whole, though this allegory is in many parts ingeni- 
 ous, and is laboured into splendid poetry, we fear it 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 21 
 
 has the effect upon most readers which it seems it 
 had upon the author himself, who tells us that 
 
 Awhile he stood 
 Perplex'd and giddy. 
 
 It may be doubted whether this discussion is 
 strictly within the bounds of the subject, the Plea- 
 sures of Imagination ; since the instances given are 
 not confined to scenic representation, but refer to 
 the primary feelings of the passions,. What has 
 imagination to do with 
 
 The bitter shower 
 Which sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave ? 
 
 The book concludes with an animated and pathe- 
 tic exemplification of the gratification felt in the 
 indulgence of mournful sympathy, or generous in- 
 dignation ; the latter pointed against the two things 
 the author most hated, superstition and tyranny. 
 
 The third book touches upon a difficult and un- 
 grateful subject for the poetic art, the Pleasures of 
 Ridicule. It involves the question, much agitated 
 
22 OK akenside's 
 
 at that time, whether ridicule be the test of truth. 
 Our author follows the system of Shaftesbury, 
 which drew upon him an attack from Bishop 
 Warburton, and he was defended by his friend 
 and patron Jeremiah Dyson. To say truth, it 
 is easier to defend the Philosopher than the Poet. 
 There is much acuteness in the theory, and much 
 art exhibited in giving a poetical dress to the va- 
 rious illustrations he makes use of ; but after all, 
 the subject is so barren in itself, and so unsuitable 
 to the solemn manner of Akenside, that we admire 
 without pleasure, and acquiesce without interest. 
 He promises indeed to 
 
 Unbend his serious measure, and reveal 
 
 In lighter strains, how Folly's aukward arts 
 
 Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke, 
 
 The sportive province of the comic Muse : 
 
 But he has net kept his promise : neither indeed 
 
 could he, for besides that no one was ever less 
 
 capable than our author of unbending, the object of 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION* 23 
 
 his disquisition is not to make us laugh, but to 
 tell us why we laugh : a very different problem, 
 and very remote from any ideas of pleasantry. Nor 
 could he, without violating uniformity, change the 
 measure of his Poem, otherwise this part of his 
 subject not affording any play, for the higher beau- 
 ties and bolder sweep of blank verse, would have 
 been better treated of in the neat and terse couplet, 
 after the manner of Pope's Ethical Epistles, or 
 Young's Satires. He begins, agreeably to the 
 system he had embraced, w r ith deducing all devia- 
 tions from rectitude or propriety, from false opi- 
 nions, imbibed in early youth, which attract the 
 imagination by fallacious shews of good. Of these 
 false opinions the more serious lead to vice, while 
 those which refer to the less important particulars 
 of our conduct betray to ridicule, the source of 
 which is incongruity ) and its final cause the assisting 
 the tardy deductions of reason by the quick impulse 
 of an instinctive sense. 
 
24 ON akenside's 
 
 The theory is beautiful and well supported. Il- 
 lustrations of every different species of the ridicu- 
 lous are given in the Poem; the notes are judicious, 
 and tend still more to elucidate the subject. Still 
 it must be confessed the theme is not a poetical one ; 
 and it may be even questioned how far it is con- 
 nected with the subject; for the sense of ridicule is 
 of a very peculiar nature, and is hardly included, 
 in common language, among the Pleasures of the 
 Imagination. If however the reader is inclined to 
 be dissatisfied with this part of his entertainment, 
 let him recollect, that if it affords him less pleasure, 
 it probably cost the author more pains than any 
 other portion of his Poem. It is asserted that under 
 the appellation of Momion, the writer has thrown 
 out a sarcasm, not undeserved, against the celebrated 
 author of the Dunciad; ior surely no man of a 
 just moral taste can reflect, without regret, that a 
 .capital work of one of our best Poets, composed 
 in the height of his reputation, and during the 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 15 
 
 perfection of all his powers, should have no other 
 end than to gratify the spleen of an offended author^ 
 and to record the petty warfare of rival wits. It 
 is an observation of the excellent Hartley, that 
 those studies which confine the mind within the 
 exercise of its own powers, as criticism, poetry, 
 and most philological pursuits, are apt to generate 
 a supercilious deportment and an anxious and self- 
 ish regard to reputation : whereas the pursuit of 
 truth, carrying the mind out of itself to large views 
 of nature and providence, fills it with sublime and 
 generous feelings. The remark must undoubtedly 
 be taken with great latitude, but it seems to be not 
 intirely unfounded. 
 
 Having dismissed the account of Ridicule, so lit- 
 tle susceptible of being adorned by his efforts, the 
 Poet rises into a higher strain., and investigates that 
 wonderful phenomenon from whence the Pleasures 
 of Imagination chiefly seem to arise, the mysteri- 
 ous connection of moral ideas with visible objects. 
 
26 ON akenside's 
 
 Why, he asks, does the deep shade of a thick wood 
 strike us with religious awe? Why does the light- 
 someness and variety ofa more airy landscape suggest 
 to us the idea of gaiety and social mirth ? Is there 
 really any resemblance, or is it owing to early and 
 frequent associations? He decides for the latter, 
 and beautifully illustrates that great law on which 
 the power of memory entirely depends. This leads 
 him to consider the powers of imagination as re- 
 siding in the human mind, when, after being stored 
 by means of memory, with ideas of all that is great 
 and beautiful in nature, the child of fancy com- 
 bines and varies them in a new creation of its own, 
 from whence the origin of Music, Painting, Poetry, 
 and all those arts which give rise to the secondary 
 or reflex pleasures, referred to in the latter part of 
 his definition. This is accompanied by a glowing 
 and animated description of the process of compo- 
 sition, written evidently with the pleasure a person 
 of genius must have felt, when reflecting with 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 27 
 
 conscious triumph that he is exercising the powers he 
 so well describes. He had probably likewise in his 
 eye the well known lines of Shakespear, 
 The poet's eye in a fine phrenzy rolling. 
 
 The simile of the Parhelion is new and beautiful. 
 The harp of Memnon struck bj the rays of the 
 sun supplies him with another; and the sympathetic 
 needles of Strada with a third, which are the 
 only ones in the Poenn 
 
 The Cause is next considered of the pleasure 
 which we receive from all that strikes us with the 
 sensation of Beauty in the material world. Con- 
 cerning this there exist two opinions. One, that 
 those objects we call beautiful are so really, and in 
 their own nature, and must appear so to any being 
 possessed of faculties capable of appreciating them. 
 The other that beauty is a mere arbitrary thing, a 
 sort of pleasing enchantment spread over the face of 
 nature, a delusion, under which we see charms that 
 do not at all result from the real properties of 
 things, and which other intelligent beings it is pro. 
 
28 ON akenside's 
 
 bable do not perceive. This latter opinion on* 
 ^author has embraced as the most philosophical. It 
 is not, we presume, the most pleasing, nor the most 
 favourable to the dignity and importance of the 
 Pleasures of Imagination ; for their boasted con- 
 nection with truth vanishes, except indeed in this 
 sense that beauty as an arbitrary mark is used with 
 precision, and is constantly found to denote the 
 health and soundness of the object in which it ap- 
 pears to reside, and consequently is made subservient 
 to utility : but the beautiful climax is destroyed by 
 which the inferior kinds are connected with moral 
 beauty, for how can what is real be connected with 
 what is imaginary ? unless indeed what would be a 
 very dangerous doctrine, the sense of moral beauty 
 itself were supposed to be dependent on our pecu- 
 liar formation,and adapted only to our present state 
 of existence. The Poet has here closely copied from 
 Addison, both in opening the thought, and in the 
 simile with which he illustrates it. He loses sight 
 however of this unpoetical philosophy toward* 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 2$ 
 
 the conclusion, where having observed that taste 
 results from the natural quickness of all the per- 
 captions he has enumerated, strengthened by ade- 
 quate culture, he observes, that culture will not 
 however destroy the peculiar bias which is impress- 
 ed upon different minds towards the great, or the 
 soft and beautiful. This he exemplifies in Waller 
 and Shakespear. He then winds up the whole by 
 that noble and animated eulogium on the taste for 
 the beauties of nature, 
 
 O blest of heaven, whom — 
 And having led the lover of the fair and beautiful 
 through all the different gradations of excellence, 
 he leaves the mind where alone it should rest, in 
 the contemplation of the Supreme Excellence, and 
 closes with the sublime idea, that in admiring the 
 works of nature, we form our taste upon the con- 
 ceptions of the Deity himself. 
 
 Much more might be said of the philosophy of 
 
 this Poem, but the chief aim of this essay is to shew 
 
 the poetical use he has made of his subject. M any 
 
30 ON AKENSIDE'S 
 
 of the divisions might perhaps be differently ar- 
 ranged, and the theory in some instances improved, 
 but for poetry it is sufficiently accurate, and in^ 
 speculations of this shadowy nature, no person will 
 be thoroughly content with even his own system 
 after the lapse of any considerable portion of time. 
 
 IF the genius of Akenside be to be estimated 
 from this Poem, and it is certainly the most capi- 
 tal of his works, it will be found to be lofty and 
 elegant, chaste, classical, and correct : not marked 
 with strong traits of originality, not ardent, nor 
 exuberant. His enthusiasm was rather of that kind 
 which is kindled by reading and imbibing the spi- 
 rit of authors, than by contemplating at first hand 
 the works of Nature. As a versifier Akenside is 
 allowed to stand amongst those who have given the 
 most finished models of blank verse. His periods 
 are long, but harmonious, the cadences fall with 
 grace, and the measure is supported with uniform 
 
PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 31 
 
 dignity. His Muse possesses the mien erect \ and high 
 commanding gait. We shall scarcely find a low or 
 trivial expression introduced, a careless or unfinish- 
 ed line permitted to stand. His stateliness however is 
 somewhat allied to stiffness. His verse is sometimes 
 feeble through too rich a redundancy of ornament^ 
 and sometimes laboured into a degree of obscurity 
 from too anxious a desire of avoiding natural and 
 simple expressions. We do not conceive of him as. 
 pouring easy his unpremeditated strain. It is rather 
 difficult to read, from the sense being extended some* 
 times through more than twenty lines ; but when 
 well read, fills and gratifies the ear with all the 
 pomp of harmony. It is far superior to the com- 
 positions of his contemporary Thomson (we speak 
 now only of the measure), and more equal than 
 Milton, though inferior to his finest passages* 
 It is indeed too equal not to be in some degree 
 monotonous. He is fond of compound epithets, 
 led to it perhaps by his fondness for the Greek, 
 and delights in giving a classic air to his composu 
 
32 ON akenside's 
 
 tions by using names and epithets the most remote 
 from vulgar use. Like Homer's gods his poetry 
 speaks a different language from that of common 
 mortals. 
 
 That an author who lived to near fifty should 
 have produced his most capital work at three and 
 twenty, seems to imply (as his professional studies 
 did not cause him to lay aside his poetical pursuits) 
 a genius more early than extensive, a mind more 
 refined than capacious. And that this was the case 
 in reality, will appear from his having employed 
 himself during several years in correcting and in. 
 tirely new moulding this his favourite Poem, To 
 correct to a certain degree is the duty of a man of 
 sense, but always to correct will not be the employ- 
 ment of a man of spirit. It betrays a miud rather 
 brooding with fond affection over old productions, 
 than inspired by a fresh stream of new ideas. The 
 flowers of fancy are apt to lose their odour by 
 much handling, the glow is gone, and the ear itself 
 after a certain time loses its tact amidst repeated 
 
^PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION* S3 
 
 alterations, as the taste becomes confounded by thfc 
 successive trial of different flavours. 
 
 The Edition which he was preparing was, however, 
 left in too imperfect a state to justify its being pre* 
 sented to the public, at least of superseding the 
 complete one which is here given, and which passed 
 rapidly through many editions soon after its first 
 appearance. In the posthumous Poem the ordon- 
 nance is greatly changed : Novelty is left out as a 
 primary source of the Pleasure of the Imagination, 
 and placed among the adventitious circumstances 
 which only increaseit: the greatestpart of the lines 
 on Ridicule is also omitted, and he has abandoned 
 the idea of its being the test of truth, an idea which 
 had given offence to the severer moralists. Instead 
 of the allegory of Virtue and Euphrosyne, the 
 third book consists of a story concerning Solon, 
 on which Dr. Johnson makes this single observa- 
 tion, that it is too long. The probability is that 
 the critic never read it through: as, for the author's 
 
34 ON akekside's 
 
 purpose, it is too short, since it breaks off so abruptly, 
 that though the purport is declared to be to show 
 the origin of evil, the story is not far enough 
 advanced to allow the reader even to guess at the 
 intended solution. Of the fourth book the begin, 
 ning is barely sketched. But had the whole been 
 completed we may venture to pronounce, that, if the 
 system was improved, the Poetry would have been 
 weaker. He has amplified what had before a ten- 
 dency to be redundant ; he has rendered abstruse 
 what was before sufficiently difficult of comprehen. 
 sion ; and in proportion as he has departed from 
 the chaste elegance of Addjson, he has given to his 
 subject a dry scholastic air, and involved it in 
 metaphysical subtilties. Of amplification the fol- 
 lowing are instances. In the Poem before us we 
 meet with the line 
 
 And painted shells indent their speckled wreaths. 
 
 Not being willing to let these shells pass without 
 the-lustreof an additional polish, he has altered it to 
 
PLEASURES OT IMAGINATION. 35 
 
 And painted shells along some winding shore 
 Catch with indented folds the glancing sum 
 He had spoken in the former of 
 — the thymy vale 
 Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds 
 Ilissus pure devolved his tuneful stream 
 In gentler murmurs. 
 
 The thought of a river listening to eloquence is 
 but trite, and therefore sufficiently spread ; but not 
 content with the image, he has in the later work 
 added Boreas and Orithyia to the dramatis persona?. 
 
 Where once beneath 
 
 That ever-living plantane's ample boughs 
 Ilissus by Socratic sounds detain'd 
 On his neglected urn attentive lay. 
 While Boreas lingering on the neighbouring steep 
 With beauteous Orithyia his love-tale 
 In silent awe suspended. 
 Sometimes, however, we meet with a happier 
 image. The following is very picturesque : 
 d 2 
 
3(5 ON AKENSIDE'S, &C. 
 
 O ye dales 
 
 Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands, where 
 Oft as the giant fiood obliquely strides 
 
 And his banks open 
 
 The following description of universal or primitive 
 beauty, though somewhat too awful for a Venus, is 
 striking, and merits preservation : 
 
 He, God most high, — Page 130 to 
 - — and owns her charms, — Page 134. 
 On the whole, though we may not look upon 
 Akenside as one of those few born to create an era 
 in Poetry, we may well consider him as formed to 
 shine in the brightest; we may venture to predict 
 that his work, which is not formed on any local or 
 temporary subject, will continue to be a classic in 
 our language; and we shall pay him the grateful 
 regard which we owe to genius exerted in the cause 
 of liberty and philosophy, of virtue and of taste. 
 
*TH* 
 
 DESIGN. 
 
 THERE are certain powers in human nature which 
 seem to hold a middle place between the organs of 
 bodily sense, and the faculties of moral perception : 
 they have been called by a very general name, The 
 Powers of Imagination. Like the external senses, 
 they relate to matter and motion ; and, at the same 
 time, give the mind ideas analogous to those of 
 moral approbation and dislike. As they are the 
 inlets of some of the most exquisite pleasures with 
 which we are acquainted, it has naturally happened 
 that men of warm and sensible tempers have sought 
 means to recall the delightful perceptions which 
 they afford, independent of the object which ori- 
 ginally produced them. This gave rise to the 
 imitative or designing arts ; some of which, as 
 
Z THE DESIGN. 
 
 painting and sculpture, directly copy the external 
 appearances which were admired in nature; others, 
 as music and poetry, bring them back to remem- 
 brance by signs universally established and under- 
 stood. 
 
 But these arts, as they grew more correct and 
 deliberate, were of course led to extend their 
 imitation beyond the peculiar object of the ima- 
 ginative powers ; especially poetry, w hich, making 
 use of language as the instrument by which it 
 imitates, it consequently becomes an unlimited 
 representative of every species and mode of being. 
 Yet,as their intention was only to express the objects 
 of imagination, and as they still abound chiefly in 
 ideas of that class, they of course retain their origi- 
 nal character ; and all the different pleasures which 
 they excite are termed, in general, Pleasures of 
 Imagination. 
 
 The design of the following poem is to give a 
 iLew of these in the largest acceptation of the term ; 
 
THE DESIGN. 3 
 
 so that whatever our imagination feels from the agree- 
 able appearances of Nature, and all the various enter- 
 tainment we meet with, either in poetry ^ painting^ 
 music, or any of the elegant arts, which might be dedu- 
 ciblefrom one or other of those principles in the con- 
 stitution of the human mind, are here established 
 and explained. 
 
 In executing this general plan, it was necessary 
 first of all to distinguish the Imagination from our 
 other faculties ; and in the next place to charac- 
 terize those original forms or properties of being, 
 about which it is conversant, and which are by 
 nature adapted to it, as light is to the eyes, or 
 truth to the understanding. These properties Mr. 
 Addison had reduced to the three general classes 
 of greatness, novelty, and beauty ; and into these 
 we may analyze every object, however complex, 
 which, properly speaking, is delightful to the imagi- 
 nation. But such an object may also include many 
 other sources of pleasure; and its beauty^ or uovelty> 
 
4 THE DESIGNV 
 
 or grandeur, will make a stronger impression by 
 reason of this concurrence. Besides which, the 
 imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their 
 effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite 
 foreign to the imagination, insomuch, that in every 
 line of the most applauded poems, we meet with 
 either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths 
 discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of 
 contrivance and final causes, or, above all the rest, 
 with circumstances properto awaken and engage the 
 passions. It was therefore necessary to enumerate 
 and exemplify these different species of pleasure; 
 especially that from the passions, which, as it is 
 supreme in the noblest work of human genius, so 
 being in some particulars not a little surprising, gave 
 an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn of the 
 Poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the , 
 appearance. 
 
 After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly 
 of admiration, or naturally warm and interest the 
 
THE DESIGN. 5 
 
 mind, a pleasure of a very different nature, that 
 which arises from ridicule, came next to be con- 
 sidered. As this is the foundation of the comic 
 manner in all the aris, and has been but very imper- 
 fectly treated by moral writers, it was thought proper 
 to give it a particular illustration, and to distinguish 
 the general sources from which the ridicule of cha- 
 racters is derived. Here too a change of style 
 became necessary ; such a one as might jet be con- 
 sistent, if possible, with the general taste of compo- 
 sition in the serious parts of the subject ; nor is it an 
 easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this 
 kind, without running either into the gigantic 
 expressions of tho mock heroic, or the familiar and 
 poetical raillery of professed satire ; neither of which 
 would have been proper here. 
 
 The materials of all imitation being thus laid open ? 
 nothing now remained but to illustrate some parti- 
 cular pleasures, which arise either from the relation* 
 of different objects one to another ; or from the 
 
fJ THE DESIGN. 
 
 nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind, is that 
 various and complicated resemblance existing between 
 several parts of the material and immaterial worlds, 
 which is the foundation of metaphor and wit. As 
 it seems in a great measure to depend on the early 
 association of our ideas, and as this habit of associat- 
 ing is the source of many pleasures and pains in 
 life, and on that account bears a great share in 
 the influence of poetry and the other arts, it is 
 therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. 
 Then follows a general account of the production 
 of these elegant arts, and of the secondary pleasure, 
 as it is called, arising from the resemblance of their 
 imitations to the original appearances of Nature. 
 After which, the work concludes with some reflec- 
 tions on the general conduct of the powers of 
 imagination, and on their natural and moral useful- 
 ness in life. 
 
 Concerning the manner or turn of composition 
 which prevail* in this piece, little can be said with- 
 
THE DESIGN. 7 
 
 propriety by the author. He had two models; that 
 ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, 
 as it is refined by Virgii* in the Georgics, and the 
 familiar epistolary way of Horace. This latter 
 has several advantages. It admits of a greater 
 variety of style ; it more readily engages the gene- 
 rality of readers, as partaking more of the air of 
 conversation ; and, especially with the assistance of 
 rhyme, leads to a closer and more concise expression. 
 Add to this the example of the most perfect of 
 modern poets, who has so happily applied this man. 
 ner to the noblest parts of philosophy, that the 
 public taste is in a great measure formed to it alone. 
 Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending almost 
 constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed 
 rather to demand a more open, pathetic, and figured 
 style. This too appeared more natural, as the 
 author's aim was not so much to give formal pre*, 
 cepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, 
 as, by exhibiting the most engaging prospects of 
 
8 THE DESIGN. 
 
 Nature, to enlarge and harmonize the imagination, 
 and by that means insensibly dispose the minds of 
 men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in 
 religion, morals, and civil life. It is on this account 
 that he is so careful to point out the benevolent 
 intention of the Author of Nature in every principle 
 of the human constitution here insisted on; and also 
 to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same 
 point of view with the mere external objects of good 
 taste; thus recommending them in common to our 
 natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful and 
 lovely. The same views have also led him to intro. 
 duce some sentiments which may perhaps be looked 
 upon as not quite direct to the subject; but since 
 they bear an obvious relation to it, the authority of 
 Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will 
 best support him in this particular. For the sentu 
 ments themselves, he makes no apology. 
 
FIRST BOOK 
 
 PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed. — Difficulty of treating it poetically.-*. 
 The ideas of the divine mind, the origin of every quality 
 pleasing to the imagination. — The natural variety of consti- 
 tution in the minds of men ; with its final cause.— The idea 
 of a fine imagination and the state of the mind in the enjoy- 
 ment of those pleasures which it affords. All the primary 
 pleasures of the imagination result from the perception of 
 greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. — The plea- 
 sure from greatness, with its final cause. — Pleasure from 
 novelty, or wonderfulness, with its final cause. — Pleasure 
 from beauty, with its final cause. — The connection of beauty 
 with truth and good, applied to the conduct of life. — Invi- 
 tation to the study of moral philosophy. — The different degrees 
 of beauty indifferent species of objects: colour; shape; na- 
 tural concretes; vegetables; animals; the mind. — The sub- 
 lime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. — The connection of 
 the imagination and the moral faculty. — Conclusion. 
 
TttB 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 OF 
 
 IMAGINATION, 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 W ITH what attractive charms this goodly frame 
 
 Of nature touches the consenting hearts 
 
 Of mortal men ; and what the pleasing stores 
 
 Which beauteous imitation thence derives 
 
 To deck the poet's, or the painter's toil ; 5 
 
 My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle powers 
 
 Of musical delight ! and while I sing 
 
 Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain. 
 
 Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast, 
 
 Indulgent Fancy ! from the fruitful banks 10 
 
12 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull 
 
 Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf 
 
 Where Shakespear lies, be present; and with thee 
 
 Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings 
 
 Wafting ten thousand colours through the air, 15 
 
 Which by the glances of her magic eye 
 
 She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms, 
 
 Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre. 
 
 Which rules the accents of the moving sphere, 
 
 AVilt thou, eternal Harmony ! descend 20 
 
 And join this festive train? for with thee comes 
 
 The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports, 
 
 Majestic Truth : and where Truth deigns to come, 
 
 Her sister Liberty will not be far. 
 
 Be present all ye Genii, who conduct 25 
 
 The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard, 
 
 New to your springs and shades : who touch his ear 
 
 With finer sounds : who heighten to his eye. 
 
 The bloom of Nature, and before him turn 
 
 The gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30 
 
OF IMAGINATION, IS 
 
 Oft have the laws of each poetic strain 
 The critic-verse employ'd ; yet still unsung 
 Lay this prime subject, though importing most 
 A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt. 
 By dull obedience and by creeping toil 35 
 
 Obscure to conquer the severe ascent 
 Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath 
 Must fire the chosen genius ; Nature's hand 
 Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings 
 Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40 
 
 High as the summit; there to breathe at large 
 iEihcrial air ; with bards and sages old, 
 Immortal sons of praise. The flattering scenes, 
 To this neglected labour court my song; 
 Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task 45 
 
 To paint the finest features of the mind, 
 And to most subtle and mysterious things 
 Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love 
 Of Nature and the Muses bids explore. 
 Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50 
 
14 THE PLEASURES 
 
 The fair poetic region, to detect 
 Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts 5 
 And shade my temples with unfading flowers 
 Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess^ 
 Where never poet gain'd a wreath before. 55 
 
 From heaven my strains begin;from heaven descends 
 The flame of genius to the human breast, 
 And love and beauty, and poetic joy 
 And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun 
 Sprang from the East, or 'mid the vault of night 60 
 The moon suspended her serener lamp ; 
 Ere mountains,woods, or streams, adorn'd the globe^ 
 Or wisdom taught the sons of men her lore ; 
 Then liv'd the Almighty One : then, deep-retir'd 
 In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, 65 
 The forms eternal of created things ; 
 The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp, 
 The mountains, woods, and streams, the rollingglobe^ 
 And wisdom's mien celestial. From the first 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 15 
 
 Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70 
 
 His admiration : till in time complete, 
 What he admir'd and lov'd, his vital smile 
 Unfolded into being. Hence the breath 
 Oflife informing each organic frame, 74 
 
 Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves ; 
 Hence light and shade alternate ; warmth and cold J 
 And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers^ 
 And all the fair variety of things* 
 
 But not alike to every mortal eye 
 Is this great scene unveil'd. For since the claims 80 
 Of social life, to different labours urge 
 The active powers of man ; with wise intent 
 The hand of Nature on peculiar minds 
 Imprints a different bias, and to each 
 Decrees its province in the common toil. 85 
 
 To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, 
 The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars, 
 The golden zones of heaven : to some she gave 
 e2 
 
16 THE PLEASURES 
 
 To weigh the moment of eternal things, 
 
 Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90 
 
 And will's quick impulse : others by the hand 
 
 She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore 
 
 What healing virtue swells the tender veins 
 
 Of herbs and flowers ; or what thebeams of morn 
 
 Drawforth, distilling from the cliftedrind 95 
 
 In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes 
 
 Were destin'd ; some within a finer mould 
 
 She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flamet 
 
 To these, the Sire Omnipotent unfolds 
 
 The world's harmonious volume, there to read 100 
 
 The transcript of himself. On every part 
 
 They trace the bright impressions of his hand : 
 
 In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, 
 
 The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form 
 
 Blooming with rosy smiles, they see pourtray'd 105 
 
 That uncreated beauty, which delights 
 
 The mine! supreme. They also feel her charms, 
 
 Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. 
 
OF IMAGINATIONS 17 
 
 For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd 
 By fabling Nil us, to the quivering touch 110 
 
 Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string 
 Consenting, sounded through the warbling air 
 Unbidden strains ; even so did Nature's hand 
 To certain species of external things, 
 Attune the finer organs of the mind : 1 15 
 
 So the glad impulse of congenial powers, 
 Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, 
 The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, 
 Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, 
 From nerve to nerve: all naked and alive 120 
 
 They catch the spreading rays : till now the soul 
 At length discloses every tuneful spring, 
 To that harmonious movement from without 
 Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain 
 Diiiuses its enchantment : Fancy dreams 125 
 
 Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, 
 And vales of bliss ; the intellectual power 
 Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear r 
 
18 THE PLEASURES 
 
 And smiles: the passions, gently sooth'd away, 
 Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 
 
 Alcne are waking ; love and joy, serene 
 As airs that fan the summer. Oh, attend, 
 Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, 
 Whose candid bosom the refining love 
 Of Nature warms. Oh, listen to my song ; 135 
 
 And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, 
 And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, 
 And point her loveliest features to thy view. 
 
 Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, 
 Whate'er of mimic art's reflected forms 140 
 
 With love and admiration thus inflame 
 The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons 
 To three illustrious orders have referr'd ; 
 Three sister-graces, whom the painter's hand ? 
 The poet's tongue, confesses ; the sublime, 145 
 
 The wonderful, the fair. I see them dawn ! 
 I eee the radiant visions, where they rise, 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 19 
 
 More lovely than when Lucifer displays 
 
 His beaming forehead through the gates of morn. 
 
 To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150 
 
 Say, why was man so eminently rais'd 
 Amid the vast creation, why ordain' d 
 Through life and death to dart his piercing eye. 
 With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame ; 
 But that the Omnipotent might send him forth 
 In sight of mortal and immortal powers, 15$ 
 
 As on a boundless theatre, to run 
 The great career of justice ; to exalt 
 His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; 
 To chase each partial purpose from his breast ; 160 
 And through the tossing tide of chance and pain. 
 To hold his course unfaultering, while the voice 
 Of Truth and Virtue up the steep ascent 
 Of Nature, calls him to his high reward, 165 
 
 The applauding smile ofHeaven? Else wherefore burns; 
 
20 THE PLEASURES 
 
 In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, 
 That breathes from day to day sublimer things, 
 And mocks possession ? wherefore darts the mind 
 With such resistless ardour to embrace 170 
 
 Majestic forms ; impatient to be free, 
 Spurning the gross controul of wilful might ; 
 Proud of the strong contention of her toils ; 
 Proud to be daring ? Who but rather turns 
 To Heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175 
 Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame ? 
 Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye 
 Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey 
 Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave 
 Through mountains, plains, through empires black 
 with shade, 180 
 
 And continents of sand; will turn his gaze 
 To mark the windings of a scanty rill 
 That murmfrrs at his feet ? The high-born soul 
 Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing 
 Beneath its native quarry. Tir'd of earth 185 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 21 
 
 And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft 
 
 Through fields of air ; pursues the flying storm ; 
 
 Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; 
 
 Or, yok'd with whirlwinds and the Northern blast. 
 
 Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 
 
 The blue profound, and hovering round the sua 191 
 
 Beholds him pouring the redundant stream 
 
 Of light ; beholds his unrelenting sway 
 
 Bend the reluctant planets to absolve 
 
 The fated rounds of time. Thence far effus'd 195 
 
 She darts her swiftness up the long career 
 
 Of devious comets ; through its burning signs 
 
 Exulting measures the perennial wheel 
 
 Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars. 
 
 Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200 
 
 Invests the orient Now amaz'd she views 
 
 The empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold, 
 
 Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode ; 
 
 And fields of radiance, whose unfading light 
 
 Has travell'dthe profound six thousand years ; 205 
 
22 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. 
 
 Even on the barriers of the world untir'd 
 
 She meditates the eternal depth below ; 
 
 Till half recoiling, down the headlong steep 
 
 She plunges ; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up 
 
 In that immense of being. There her hopes 211 
 
 Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth 
 
 Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said. 
 
 That not in humble nor in brief delight. 
 
 Not in the fading echoes of renown, 215 
 
 Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, 
 
 The soul should find enjoyment : but from these 
 
 Turning disdainful to an equal good, 
 
 Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, 
 
 Till every bound at length should disappear, 220 
 
 And infinite perfection close the scene. 
 
 Call now to mind what high capacious powers 
 Lie folded up in man ; how far beyond 
 The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth 
 
OF IMAGINATION*. 23 
 
 Cf Nature to perfection half divine 225 
 
 Expand the blooming soul ? What pity then 
 Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth 
 Her tender blossom ; choke the streams of life. 
 And blast her spring ! Far otherwise design'd 
 Almighty wisdom 5 Nature's happy cares 230 
 
 The obedient heart iar otherwise incline. 
 Witness the sprightly joy, when aught unknown 
 Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power 
 To brisker measures : witness the neglect 
 Of all familiar prospects, though beheld 23£ 
 
 With transport once ; the fond attentive gaza 
 Of young astonishment ; the sober zeal 
 Of age, commenting on prodigious things, 
 For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, 
 In every breast implanting this desire 240 
 
 Of objects new and strange, to urge us on 
 With unremitted labour to pursue 
 Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul. 
 In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words 
 
24 THE PLEASURES 
 
 To paint its power ? For this the daring youth 245 
 
 Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms, 
 
 In foreign climes to rove : the pensive sage, 
 
 Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, 
 
 Hangs o'er the sickly temper ; and iintir'd 
 
 The virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250 
 
 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 25S 
 
 The village-matron, round the blazing hearth, 
 
 Suspends the infant-audience with her tales, 
 
 Breathing astonishment ! of witchiag rhymes 
 
 And evil spirits ; of the death-bed call 
 
 Cf him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260 
 
 The orphan's portion ; of unquiet souls 
 
 Risen 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 ware 
 
-Paae z^ . 
 
 
 A***rf&&-icr4tov&JVrr&p I fratiWiz&j w j* an # t 
 
OT IMAGINATION. %% 
 
 The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. 265 
 
 At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, 
 
 Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd 
 
 With shivering sighs : til] eager for the event, 
 
 Around the Beldame all arract they hang, 
 
 Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell' d. 
 
 But lo ! disclos'd ia all her smiling pomp, 271 
 Where beauty onward moving claims the verse 
 Her charms inspire : the freely-flowing verse 
 In thy immortal praise, O form divine, 
 Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, beauty, thee 
 The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray 276 
 
 The mossy roofs adore : thou, better sun ! 
 For ever beamest on the enchanted heart 
 Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight 
 Poetic. Brightest progeny of heaven! 280 
 
 How shall I trace thy features ? where select 
 The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom ? 
 Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse, 
 
25 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth, 
 Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains, 285 
 Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 
 To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly 
 With laughing Autumn to the Alantie isles, 
 And range with him the Hesperian field, and see 
 Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290 
 The branches shoot with gold ; where'er his step 
 Marks the glad soil, the lender clusters grow 
 With purple ripeness, and invest each hill 
 As with the blushes of an evening sky ? 
 Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume, 295 
 Where gliding thro' his daughter's honour'd shades, 
 The smooth Peneus from his glassy flood 
 Reflects purpureal Tempe's pleasant scene ? 
 Fair Tempe ! haunt belov'd of sylvan powers, 
 Of nymphs and fauns ; where in the golden age 300 
 They play'd in secret on the shady brink 
 With ancient Pan : while round their choral steps 
 Young hours and genial gales with constant hand 
 
OF IMAGINATION* 27 
 
 Showered blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews 
 
 And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store 305 
 
 To thee nor Tempe shall refuse ; nor watch 
 
 Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits 
 
 From thy free spoil. Oh bear then unreprov'd, 
 
 Thy smiling treasures to the green recess 
 
 Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310 
 
 Intice her forth to lend her angel-form 
 
 For beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn 
 
 Thy graceful footsteps ; hither, gentle maid, 
 
 Incline thy polished forehead : let thy eyes 
 
 Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn ; 315 
 
 And may the fanning breezes waft aside 
 
 Thy radiant locks : disclosing, as it bends 
 
 With airy softness from the marble neck, 
 
 The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip, 
 
 Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 
 
 With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend 321 
 
 Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force 
 
 Of Nature, and her kind parental care 
 
28 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Worthier I'd sing : then aJl the enamour'd youth 
 
 With each admiring virgin, to my lyre 32$ 
 
 Should throng attentive, while I point on high 
 
 Where beauty's living image, like the morn 
 
 That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May, 
 
 Moves onward ; or as Venus, when she stood 
 
 Effulgent on the pearly car, and smil'd, 330 
 
 Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form, 
 
 To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells, 
 
 And each ccerulean sister of the flood 
 
 With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves 
 
 To seek the ldalian bower. Ye smiling band 335 
 
 Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze 
 
 Of young desire with rival steps pursue 
 
 This charm of beauty ; if the pleasing toil 
 
 Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn 
 
 Your favourable ear, and trust my words. 340 
 
 I do not mean to wake the gloomy form 
 
 Of Superstition drcss'd in Wisdom's garb, 
 
 To damp your tender hopes • I do not meaa 
 
OF IMAGINATION. %\ 
 
 To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens, 
 Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth 345 
 
 To fright you from your joys : my cheerful song 
 With better omens calls you to the field, 
 Pleas'd with your generous ardour in the chase, 
 And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know, 
 Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350 
 And active use are strangers ? Is her charm 
 Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends 
 Are lame and fruitless ? Or did Nature mean 
 This pleasing call the herald of a lie ; 
 To hide the shame of discord and disease, 355 
 
 And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart 
 Of idle faith ? Oh no ! with better cares 
 The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm 
 Her offspring treads the paths of good and ill, 
 By this illustrious image, in each kind 360 
 
 Still most illustrious where the object holds 
 Its native powers most perfect, she by thi* 
 Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire, 
 
30 THE PLEASURES 
 
 And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe 
 Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract 
 Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul, 366 
 
 The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense, 
 And every charm of animated things, 
 Are, only pledges of a state sincere, 
 The integrity and order of their frame, 370 
 
 When all is well within, and every end 
 Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, 
 The lovely ministress of truth and good 
 In this dark world: for truth and good are one, 
 And beauty dwells in them, and they in her, 375 
 With like participation. Wherefore then, 
 O sons of earth ! would ye dissolve the tie ? 
 Oh wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim, 
 Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand 
 Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene 380 
 
 Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire 
 Where is the sanction of eternal truth, 
 Or where the seal of un deceitful good ; 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 31 
 
 To save your search from folly? Wanting these, 
 
 Lo ! beauty withers in your void embrace, 385 
 
 And with the glittering of an ideot*s toy 
 
 Did fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam 
 
 Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts, 
 
 Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task, 
 
 To learn the lore of undeccitful good, 390 
 
 And truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms 
 
 Of baleful superstition guide the feet 
 
 Of servile numbers through a dreary way 
 
 To their abode, through deserts, thorns and mire ; 
 
 And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn 395 
 
 To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom 
 
 Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells ; 
 
 To walk with spectres through the midnight shade, 
 
 And to the screaming owl's accursed song 
 
 Attune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400 
 
 Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star 
 
 Your lovely search illumines. From the grove 
 
 Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons, 
 
32 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Could my ambitious hand intwine a wreath 
 
 Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, 405 
 
 Then should my powerful verse at once dispel 
 
 Those monkish horrors : then in light divine 
 
 Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps 
 
 Of those whom Nature charms thro' blooming walks, 
 
 Thro' fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410 
 
 Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards, 
 
 Led by their winged genius and the choir 
 
 Of laurel'd science, and harmonious art, 
 
 Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine, 
 
 Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, 415 
 
 The undivided partners of her sway, 
 
 With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh let not us, 
 
 Lull'd by luxurious pleasure's languid strain, 
 
 Or crouching to the frowns of bigot-rage, 
 
 Oh let us not a moment pause to join 430 
 
 That god-like band. And if the gracious power 
 
 Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, 
 
 Will to my invocation breathe anew 
 
OP IMAGINATION. 33 
 
 The tuneful spirit ; then through all our paths, 
 
 Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre 42d 
 
 Be wanting ; whether on the rosy mead. 
 
 When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart 
 
 Of luxury's allurement ; whether firm 
 
 Against the torrent and the stubborn hill 
 
 To urge bold virtue's unremitted nerve, 430 
 
 And wake the strong divinity of soul 
 
 That conquers chance and fate ; or whether struck 
 
 For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils 
 
 Upon the lofty summit, round her brow 
 
 To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise ; 435 
 
 To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds, 
 
 And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. 
 
 Thus with a faithful aim have we presum'd, 
 Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form ; 
 Whether in vast, majestic pomp array 'd, 440 
 
 Ordrest for pleasing wonder, or serene 
 In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains, 
 
34 THE PLEASURE* 
 
 Through various being's fair-proportion' d scale, 
 To trace the rising lustre of her charms, 
 From their first twilight, shining forth at length 
 To full meridian splendor. Of degree 446 
 
 The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth 
 Of colours mingling with a random blaze., 
 Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line 
 And variation of determin'd shape, 450 
 
 Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound 
 Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent 
 Unites this varied symmetry of parts 
 With colour's bland allurement ; as the pearl 
 Shines in the concave of its azure beti^ 455 
 
 And painted shells indent their speckled wreath. 
 Then more attractive rise the blooming forms 
 Through which the breath of Nature has infus'd 
 Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins 
 Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460 
 In fruit and seed prolific : thus the flowers 
 Their purple honours with the spring resume ; 
 
OP IMAGINATION* 35 
 
 And such the stately tree which autumn bends 
 With blushing treasures. But more lovely still 
 Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent 465 
 Of complicated members, to the bloom 
 Of colour, and the vital change of growth, 
 Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given, 
 And active motion speaks the temper'd soul : 
 So moves the bird of Juno ; so the steed 470 
 
 With rival ardour beats the dusty plain, 
 And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy 
 Salute their fellows. Thus doth beauty dwell 
 There most conspicuous, even in outward shape, 
 Where dawns the high expression of a mind : 475^ 
 By steps conducting our enraptur'd search 
 To that eternal origin, whose power, 
 Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, 
 Like rays effulging from the parent sun, 
 This endless mixture of her charms diffus'd. 480 
 Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven !) 
 The living fountains in itself contains 
 
36 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Of beauteous and sublime : here hand in hand, 
 
 Sit paramount the graces ; here cnthron'd, 
 
 Coelestial Venus 3 with divinest airs, 485 
 
 Invites the soul to never-fading joy. 
 
 Look then abroad through Nature, to the range 
 
 Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres , 
 
 Wheeling unshaken through the void immense ; 
 
 And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490 
 
 With half that kindling majesty dilate 
 
 Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose 
 
 Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, 
 
 Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm 
 
 Aloft extending, like eternal Jove 495 
 
 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 500 
 
 In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, 
 
 In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn, 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 37 
 
 In Nature's fairest forms, is ought so fair 
 
 As virtuous friendship ? As the candid blush 
 
 Of him who strives with fortune to be just ? 505 
 
 The graceful tear that streams for others' woes ? 
 
 Or the mild majesty of private life, 
 
 Where peace with ever-blooming olive crowns 
 
 The gate 3 where honour's liberal hands effuse 
 
 Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 
 
 Of innocence and love protect the scene? 
 
 Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound 
 
 Where Nature works in secret; vbw the beds 
 
 Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault 
 
 That bounds the hoary ocean ; trace the forms 515 
 
 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 520 
 
 Attentive turn ; from dim oblivion call 
 
 Her fleet, ideal band j and bid them, go ! 
 
SS THE PLEASURE! 
 
 Break through Time's barrier, and overtake the hour 
 That saw the heavens created : then declare 
 If aught were found in those external scenes 525 
 To move thy wonder now. For what are all 
 The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears. 
 Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts ? 
 Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows 
 The superficial impulse ; dull their charms, 530 
 And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. 
 Not so the moral species, nor the powers 
 Of genius and design ; the ambitious mind 
 There sees herself : by these congenial forms 
 Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act 535 
 
 She bends each nerve, and meditates well-pleas'd 
 Her features in the mirror. For of all 
 The inhabitants of earth, to man alone 
 Creative wisdom gave to lift his eye 
 To Truth's eternal measures; thenee to frame 540 
 The sacred laws of action and of will, 
 Discerning justice from unequal deeds, 
 
OF -IMAGINATION* 39 
 
 And temperance from folly. But beyond 
 
 This energy of truth, whose dictates bind 
 
 Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, 546 
 
 To deck the honour' d paths of just and good. 
 
 Has added bright imagination's rays : 
 
 Where virtue, rising from the awful depth 
 
 Of Truth's mysterious bosom, doth forsake 
 
 The unadorn'd condition of her birth ; 550 
 
 And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, 
 
 Assumes a various feature, to attract^ 
 
 With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, 
 
 The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, 
 
 The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires 555 
 
 With purest wishes, from the pensive shade 
 
 Beholds her moving, like a virgin Muse 
 
 That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme 
 
 Of harmony and wonder : while among 
 
 The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 
 
 Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, 
 
 And through the rolls of memory appeals 
 
40 THE PLEASURES 
 
 To ancient honour, or, in act serene, 
 
 Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword 
 
 Of public power, from dark ambition's reach 565 
 
 To guard the sacred volume of the laws. 
 
 Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps 
 Well-pleas'd I follow through the sacred paths 
 Of Nature and of Science ; nurse divine 
 Of all heroicdeeds and fair desires! 570 
 
 Oh ! let the breath of tliy extended praise 
 Inspire my kindling bosom to the height 
 Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts 
 Presumptuous counted, if amid the calm 
 That sooths this vernal evening into smiles, 575 
 
 I steal impatient from the sordid haunts 
 Of strife and low ambition, to attend 
 Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade, 
 By their malignant footsteps ne'er profan'd. 
 Descend, propitious ! to my favour'd eye ; 580 
 
 Such in thy inein, thy warm, exalted air, 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 41 
 
 As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung 
 
 With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth 
 
 To see thee rend the pageants of his throne ; 
 
 And at the lightning of thy lifted spear 585 
 
 Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, 
 
 Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, 
 
 Thy smiling band of arts, thy god-like sires 
 
 Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth 589 
 
 Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 
 
 Through fair Lyceum's wall:, the green retreats 
 
 Of Academus, and the thymy vale, 
 
 Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds, 
 
 Ilissus pure devolv'd his tuneful stream 
 
 In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store 
 
 Of these auspicious fields, may I unblam'd 595 
 
 Transplant some living blossoms to adorn 
 
 My native clime : while far above the flight 
 
 Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock 
 
 The springs of ancient wisdom ! while I join (500 
 
 Thy name, thrice honour'd J with the immortal praise 
 
42 THE PLEASURES, &C. 
 
 Of Nature, while to my compatriot youth 
 I point the high example of my sons, 
 And tune to attic themas the British lyre. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK. 
 
SECOND BOOK 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 THE separation of the works of Imagination from philoso- 
 phy, the cause of their abuse among the moderns. — Prospect 
 of their re-union under the influence of public liberty. — 
 Enumeration of accidental pleasures, which increase the 
 effect of objects delightful to the imagination. — The pleasures 
 of sense. — Particular circumstances of the mind. — Discovery 
 of truth. — Perception of contrivance and design. — Emotion 
 of the passions. — All the natural passions partake of a pleas- 
 ing sensation ; with the final cause of this constitution 
 illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, 
 pity, terror, and indignation. 
 
PLEASURES 
 
 OF 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 VV HEN shall the laurel and the vocal string 
 Resume their honours? When shall we behold 
 The tuneful tongue, the Promethean hand, 
 Aspire to ancient praise ? Alas ! how faint. 
 How slow, the dawn of beauty and of truth 5 
 
 Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night 
 Which yet involve the nations ! Long they groan'd 
 Beneath the furies of rapacious force ; 
 Oft as the gloomy North, with iron-swarms 
 Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, ' 10* 
 
 a 
 
46 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works 
 
 Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph 
 
 Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd 
 
 In noon-tide darkness by the glimmering lamp. 
 
 Each Muse and each fair science pin'd away 15 
 
 The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands 
 
 Their mysteries profan'd, unstrung the lyre, 
 
 And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth. 
 
 At last the Muses rose, and spurn'd their bonds, 
 
 And, wildly warbling, scattered, as they flew, 20 
 
 Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers 
 
 To Arno's myrtle border and the shore 
 
 Of soft Parthenope. But still the rage 
 
 Of dire ambition and gigantic power. 
 
 From public aims and from the busy walk 25 
 
 Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train 
 
 Of penetrating science to the cells. 
 
 Where studious ease consumes the silent hour 
 
 In shadowy searches and unfruitful care. 
 
 Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts 30 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 47 
 
 Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy, 
 
 To priestly domination and the lust 
 
 Of lawless courts, their amiable toil 
 
 For three inglorious ages have resign'd, 
 
 In vain reluctant : and T orquato's tongue 35 
 
 Was tun'd for slavish paeans at the throne 
 
 Of tinsel pomp : and Raphael's magic hand 
 
 Effus'd its fair creation to enchant 
 
 The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes 
 
 To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40 
 
 The sable tyrant plants his heel secure. 
 
 But now, behold ! the radiant a?ra dawns ? 
 
 When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length 
 
 For endless years on Albion's happy shore 
 
 In full proportion, once more shall extend 45 
 
 To all the kindred powers of social bliss 
 
 A common mansion, a parental roof. 
 
 There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train, 
 
 Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old, 
 
 Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50 
 
 g 2 
 
48 THE PLEASURES 
 
 The Muses and the Graces. Then no more 
 
 Shall Vice, distracting their delicious gifts 
 
 To aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scorn 
 
 Turn from their charms the philosophic eye, 
 
 The patriot-bosom ; then no more the paths 55 
 
 Of public care or intellectual toil, 
 
 Alone by footsteps haughty and severe 
 
 In gloomy state be trod ; (he harmonious Muse 
 
 And her persuasive sisters then shall plant 
 
 Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60 
 
 And scatter flowers along the rugged way. 
 
 Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dar'd 
 
 To pierce divine Philosophy's retreats, 
 
 And teach the Muse her lore ; already strove 
 
 Their long-divided honours to unite, 65 
 
 While tempering this deep argument we sang 
 
 Of Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad task 
 
 Impends ; now urging our ambitious toil, 
 
 We hasten to recount the various springs 
 
 Of adventitious pleasure 3 which adjoin 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 49 
 
 Their grateful influence to the prime effect 
 
 Of objects grand or beauteous, and enlarge 
 
 The complicated joy. The sweets of sense. 
 
 Do they not oft with kind accession flow, 
 
 To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm ? 75 
 
 So while we taste the fragrance of the rose, 
 
 Glows not her blush the fairer ? While we view 
 
 Amid the noon-tide walk a limpid rill 
 
 Gush thro' the trickling herbage, to the thirst 
 
 Of summer yielding the delicious draught 80 
 
 Of cool refreshment ; o'er the mossy brink 
 
 Shines not the surface clearer, and the waves 
 
 With sweeter music murmur as they flow? 
 
 Nor this alone ; the various lot of life 
 Oft from external circumstance assumes 85 
 
 A moment's disposition to rejoice 
 In those delights which at a different hour 
 Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of spring, 
 When rural songs and odours wake the morn, 
 
50 THE PLEASURES 
 
 To every eye: but how much more to his 9o 
 
 Round whom the bed of sickness long diflus'd 
 Its melancholy gloom ! how doubly fair, 
 When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales 
 The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun 
 Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life 95 
 Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain! 
 
 Or shall I mention, where coelestial Truth 
 Her awful light discloses, to bestow 
 A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame? 
 For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 
 More welcome touch his understanding's eye, 101 
 Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, 
 Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yet 
 The melting rainbow's vernal-tinctur'd hues 
 To me have shone so pleasing, as when first 105 
 The hand of Science pointed out the path 
 In which the sun-beams gleaming from the West 
 Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veil 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 5i 
 
 Involves the orient ; and that trickling shower 
 
 Piercing thro' every crystalline convex 110 
 
 Of clustering dew-drops to their flight oppos'd, 
 
 Recoil at length where concave are behind 
 
 The internal surface of each glassy orb 
 
 Repels their forward passage into air ; 
 
 That thence direct they seek the radiant goal 115 
 
 From which their course began; and as they strike 
 
 In different lines the gazer's obvious eye. 
 
 Assume a different lustre, tho' the braid 
 
 Of colours changing from the splendid rose 
 
 To the pale violet's dejected hue. 120 
 
 Or shall we touch that kind access of joy, 
 That springs to each fair object, while we trace- 
 Thro' all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim 
 Disposing e\ery part, and gaining still 
 By means proportion' d her benignant end ? 125 
 
 Speak, ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd steps 
 The lamp of science thro' the jealous maze 
 
52 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Of Nature guides, when haply you reveal 
 
 Her secret honours : whether in the sky, 
 
 The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130 
 
 That wheel the pensile planets round the year; 
 
 Whether in wonders of the rolling deep, 
 
 Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth, 
 
 Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense, 
 
 Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand. 135 
 
 What, when to raise the meditated scene, 
 The flame of passion, thro' the struggling soul 
 Deep-kindled shows across that sudden blaze 
 The object of its rapture, vast of size, 
 With fiercer colours and a night of shade ? 140 
 
 What ? like a storm from their capacious bed 
 The sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the might 
 Of these eruptions, working from the depth 
 Of man's strong apprehension, shakes his frame 
 Even to the base ; from every naked sense 145 
 
 Of pain or pleasure dissipating all 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 53 
 
 Opinion's feeble coverings, and the veil 
 
 Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times 
 
 To hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaks 
 
 Her genuine language and the words of men, 150 
 
 Big with the very motion of their souls, 
 
 Declare with what accumulated force. 
 
 The impetuous nerve of passion urges on 
 
 The native weight and energy of things. 
 
 Yet more : her honours where nor beauty claims, 
 Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure, 156 
 From passion's power alone our nature holds 
 Essential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapse 
 Rouses the mind's own fabric ; with supplies 
 Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160 
 
 Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew 
 By that collision all the fine machine: 
 Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees 
 Incumbering, choke at last, what Heaven design'd 
 For ceaseless motion and a round of toil. 165 
 
54 THE PLEASURES 
 
 — But say, does every passion thus to mau 
 
 Administer delight ? Thai name indeed 
 
 Becomes the rosy breath of love ; becomes 
 
 The radiant smiles of joy, the applauding hand 
 
 Of admiration : but tha bitter shower 170 
 
 That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave, 
 
 But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear, 
 
 Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heart 
 
 Of panting indignation, find we there 
 
 To move delight ? — Then listen while my tongue 
 
 The unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful awe 176 
 
 Reveals; what old Harmodius wont to teach 
 
 My early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'd 
 
 Within his learned mind whate'er the schools 
 
 Of Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180 
 
 O faithful Nature! dictate of the laws 
 
 Which govern and support this mighty frame 
 
 Of universal being. Oft the hours 
 
 From morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away. 
 
 While mute attention hung upon his lips, 185 
 
 As thus the sage his awful tale began : 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 55 
 
 'Twas in the windings of an ancient wood, 
 "When spotless youth with solitude resigns 
 To sweet philosophy the studious day. 
 What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190 
 Musing I rov'd. Of good and evil much, 
 And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd; 
 When starting full on Fancy's gushing eye 
 The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, 
 That hour, O long belov'd, and long deplor'd ! 196 
 When blooming youth, nor gentlest Wisdom's arts, 
 Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow, 
 Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tears 
 Avail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave; 
 Thy agonizing looks, thy last farewell 200 
 
 Struck to the inmost feeling of my soul 
 As with the hand of Death. At once the shade 
 More horrid nodded o'er me, and the winds 
 With hoarser murmuring shook the branches. Dark 
 As midnight storms, the scene of human things 205 
 Appear'd before me; deserts, burning sands, 
 
56 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Where the parch'd adder dies ; the frozen South, 
 
 And desolation blasting all the West 
 
 With rapine and with murder : tyrant power 
 
 Here sits enthron'd with blood ; the baleful charms 
 
 Of Superstition there infect the skies, 211 
 
 And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven ! 
 
 What is the life of man ? Or cannot these, 
 
 Not these portents thy awful will suffice ? 
 
 That, propagated thus beyond their scope, 215 
 
 They rise to act their cruelties anew 
 
 In my afflicted bosom, thus decreed 
 
 The universal sensitive pain. 
 
 The wretched heirs of evils not his own ! 
 
 Thus I impatient; when at once efFus'd, 220 
 A flashing torrent of coelestial day 
 Burst thro' the shadowy void. With slow descent 
 A purple cloud came floating thro' the sky, 
 And pois'd at length within the circling trees, 
 Hung obvious to my view ; till opening wide 226 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 5^ 
 
 Its lucid orb, a more than human form 
 
 Emerging lean'd majestic o'er my head. 
 
 And instant thunder shook the conscious grove. 
 
 Then melted into air the liquid cloud, 
 
 Then all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230 
 
 A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound, 
 
 And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee, 
 
 Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waist 
 
 Collected with a radiant zone of gold 
 
 iEtherial : there in mystic signs engrav'd. 235 
 
 I read his office high and sacred name 
 
 Genius of human kind. Appall'd I gaz'd 
 
 The godlike presence ; for athwart his brow 
 
 Displeasure, temper'd with a mild concern, 
 
 Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240 
 
 Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air* 
 
 Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth ! 
 And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span 
 Capacious of this universal frame I 
 
58 THE PLEASURE5 
 
 Thy wisdom all-sufficient ? Thou, alas ! 245 
 
 Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord 
 Of Nature and his works? to lift thy voice 
 Against the sovereign order he decreed, 
 All good and lovely ? to blaspheme the bands 
 Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 
 
 Holiest of things! Jby which the general orb 
 Of being as by adamantine links, 
 Was drawn to perfect union and sustain'd 
 From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs 
 Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal 255 
 
 So grievous to the soul, as (hence to wish 
 The ties of Nature broken from thy frame ; 
 That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart 
 Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then 
 The wretched heir of evils not its own ? 260 
 
 O fair benevolence of generous minds ! 
 O man by Nature form'd for all mankind! 
 
 He spoke ; abash'd and silent I remain'd, 
 As conscious of my tongue's offence, and aw'd 
 
©F IMAGINATION. 59 
 
 Before his presence, tho' my secret soul 265 
 
 Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground 
 
 I fix'd my eyes ; till from his airy couch 
 
 He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand 
 
 My dazzling forehead, Raise thy sight, he cried, 
 
 And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue. 270 
 
 I look'd, and lo! the former scene was chang'd; 
 For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, 
 A solitary prospect, wide and wild, 
 Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas an horrid pile 
 Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, 275 
 
 With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. 
 Aloft recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, 
 The brown woods wav'd; while ever trickling springs 
 Wash'd from the naked roots of oats and pine 
 The crumbling soil ; and still at every fall 280 
 
 Down the steep windings of the channell'd rock, 
 Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods 
 With hoarser inundation \ till at last 
 
CO THE PLEASURES 
 
 They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts 
 Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, 285 
 And drank the gushing moisture, where confin'd 
 In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale 
 Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils 
 Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, t 
 
 Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 
 As in a sylvan theatre enclos'd 291 
 
 That flowery level. On the river's brink 
 I spy'd a fair pavilion jAvhich diffus'd 
 Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade 
 Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd 295 
 
 Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, 
 And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, 
 On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light 
 That cheer'd the solemn scene. M\ listening powers 
 Were aw'd, and every thought in silence hung, 300 
 And wondering expectation. Then the voice 
 Of that celestial power 3 the mystic show 
 Declaring, thus my deep attention calPd. 
 
©F IMAGINATION. 61 
 
 Inhabitant of earth, to whom is given 
 The gracious ways of Providence to learn, 305 
 
 Receive my sayings with a stedfast ear — 
 Know then, the sov'reign spirit of the world, 
 Though, self-collected from eternal time, 
 Within his own deep essence he beheld 
 The bounds of true felicity complete; 310 
 
 Yet by immense benignity inclin'd 
 To spread around him that primaeval joy 
 Which fill'd himself, he rais'd his plastic arm 
 And sounded through the hollow depth of space 
 The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose 315 
 These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life 
 Effusive kindled by his breath divine 
 Through endless forms of being. Each inhal'd 
 From him its portion of the vital flame, 
 In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320 
 Of co-existent orders, one might rise, 
 One order, all-involving and entire. 
 He too beholding in the sacred light 
 
62 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Of his essential reason, all the shapes 
 
 Of swift contingence, all successive ties 325 
 
 Of action propagated through the sum 
 
 Of possible existence, he at once, 
 
 Down the long series of eventful time 
 
 So fix'd the dates of being, so dispos'd, 
 
 To every living soul of every kind 330 
 
 The field of motion and the hour of rest, 
 
 That all conspir'd to his supreme design, 
 
 To universal good : with full accord 
 
 Answering the mighty model he had chosen, 
 
 The best and fairest of unnumber'd worlds 335 
 
 That lay from everlasting in the store 
 
 Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, 
 
 By one exertion of creative power 
 
 His goodness to reveal ; through every age, 
 
 Through every moment up the tract of time 340 
 
 His parent-hand with ever-new increase 
 
 Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd 
 
 The vast harmonious frame ; his parent-hand, 
 
OP IMAGINATION. 63 
 
 From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, 
 To men, to angels, to coelestial minds, 345 
 
 For ever leads the generations on 
 To higher scenes of being ; while supply'd 
 From day to day with his enlivening breath. 
 Inferior orders in succession rise 
 To fill the void below. As flame ascends, 350 
 
 As bodies to their proper centre move, 
 As the pois'd ocean to the attracting moon 
 Obedient swells, and every headlong stream 
 Devolves its winding waters to the main ; 
 So all things which have life aspire to God, 355 
 The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, 
 Centre of souls ! Nor does the faithful voice 
 Of Nature cease to prompt their eager steps 
 Aright : nor is the care of Heaven withheld 
 From granting to the task proportion'd aid ; 360 
 That in their stations all may persevere 
 To climb the ascent of being, and approach 
 For ever nearer to the life divine. 
 k2 
 
64 THE PLEASURES 
 
 That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn 
 Fresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scene 
 Paint in tliy fancy the primaeval seat 366 
 
 Of man, and where the will supreme ordain'd 
 His mansion, that pavilion fair diffus'd 
 Along the shady Drink ! in this recess 
 To wear the appointed season of his youth, 370 
 
 Till riper hours should open to his toil 
 The high communion of superior minds. 
 Of consecrated Heroes and of Gods. 
 Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget 
 His tender bloom to cherish ; nor withheld 375 
 Ccelestial footsteps from his green abode. 
 Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, 
 He sent whom most he lovM the sov'reign fair, 
 The effluence of his glory, whom he plac'd 
 Before his eyes for ever to behold ; 380 
 
 The goddess from whose inspiration flows 
 The toil of patriots, the delight of friends ; 
 Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 65 
 
 Nought lovely, nought propitious comes to pass. 
 
 Nor hopes, nor praise, nor honour. Her the Sire 385 
 
 Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, 
 
 The folded powers to open, to direct 
 
 The growth luxuriant of his young desires. 
 
 And from the laws of this majestic world 
 
 To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 
 
 Her daily care attended, by her side 391 
 
 With constant steps her gay companion stay'd, 
 
 The fair Euphrosyne, the gentle queen 
 
 Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights 
 
 That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men 395 
 
 And powers immortal. See the shining pair ! 
 
 Behold, where from his dwelling now disclos'd 
 
 They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies. 
 
 I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood 
 Between two radiant forms a smiling youth 400 
 Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower 
 Of beauty \ sweetest innocence illum'd 
 
66 THE PLEASURES 
 
 His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow 
 
 Sat young simplicity. With fond regard 
 
 He viewed the associates, as their steps they mov'd; 
 
 The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd 40.6 
 
 With mild regret invoking her return. 
 
 Bright as the star of evening she appear'd 
 
 Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth 
 
 O^er all her form its glowing honours breath'd ; 410 
 
 And smiles eternal from her candid eyes 
 
 Flow'd like the dewy lustre of the morn 
 
 Effusive trembling on the placid waves. 
 
 The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils 
 
 To bind her sable tresses: full diffus'd 415 
 
 Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze ; 
 
 And in her hand she wav'd a living branch 
 
 Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm 
 
 The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes 
 
 To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420 
 
 The heavenly partner mov'd. The prime of age 
 
 Composed her steps. The presence of a god, 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 67 
 
 High on the circle of her brow enthron'd. 
 
 From each majestic motion darted awe, 
 
 Devoted awe ! till, cherish'd by her looks 425 
 
 Benevolent and meek, confiding love 
 
 To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. 
 
 Free in her graceful hand she poisM the sword 
 
 Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown 
 
 Display'd the whole simplicity of pomp 430 
 
 Around her honour'd head, A matron's robe 
 
 White as the sunahine streams through vernal clouds 
 
 Her stately form invested. Hand in hand 
 
 The immortal pair forsook the enamell'd green. 
 
 Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid light 435 
 
 Gleam'd round their path; coelestiai sounds were heard, 
 
 And through the fragrant air aetherial dews 
 
 Distill'd around them ; till at once the clouds . 
 
 Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew 
 
 Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440 
 
 Of empyrean flame, where spent aud drown'd, 
 
 Afflicted vision plung'd in vain to scan, 
 
G8 THE PLEASURES 
 
 What object it involv'd. My feeble eyes 
 Endur'd not. Bending down to earth I stood, 
 With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, 445 
 As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, 
 With sacred invocation thus began : 
 
 Father of gods and mortals ! whose right arm 
 With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, 
 Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well-pleas'd 450 
 I seek to finish thy divine decree. 
 With frequent steps I visit yonder seat 
 Of man; thy offspring ; from the tender seeds 
 Of justice and of wisdom to evolve 
 The latent honours of his generous frame ; 455 
 
 Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot 
 From earth's dim scene to those aetherial walks, 
 The temple of thy glory. But not me 
 Not my directing voice he oft requires, 
 Or hears delighted : this enchanting maid, 460 
 
 The associate thou hast given me, her alone 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 69 
 
 He loves, O Father I absent, her he craves ^ 
 
 And but for her glad presence ever join'dj 
 
 Rejoices not in mine : that all my hopes 
 
 This my benignant purpose to fulfil, 465 
 
 I deem uncertain : and my daily cares 
 
 Unfruitful all and vain, unless by Thee 
 
 Still farther aided in the work divine. 
 
 She ceas'd ; a voice more awful thus replied : 
 O thou ! in whom for ever I delight, 470 
 
 Fairer than all the inhabitants of heaven. 
 Best image of thy author ! far from thee 
 Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame ; 
 Who soon or late shall every work fulfil, 
 And no resistance find. If man refuse 475 
 
 To hearken to thy dictates ; or allur'd 
 By meaner joys, to any other power 
 Transfer the honours due to thee alone; 
 That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste. 
 That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480 
 
70 
 
 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Go then ! once more, and happy be thy toil; 
 
 Go then ! but let not this thy smiling friend 
 
 Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! 
 
 With thee the son of Nemesis I send ; 
 
 The fiend abhorr'd ! whose vengeance takes account 
 
 Of sacred order's violated laws. 486 
 
 See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, 
 
 Fierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath 
 
 On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, 
 
 Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490 
 
 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 the hour of ill, 
 
 To save his feeble spirit ; then confess 495 
 
 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 500 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 71 
 
 With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage, 
 And shining clearer in the horrid gloonu 
 
 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 505 
 Sheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'd 
 A vast gigantic spectre striding on 
 Thro' murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds^ 
 With dreadful action. Black as night his brow 
 Relentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510 
 With sharp impatience violent he writh'd. 
 As through convulsive anguish; and his hand r 
 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 515 
 The void with horror. Silent by his side 
 The virgin came. No discomposure stirr'd 
 Her features. From the glooms which hung around 
 No stain of darkness mingled with the beam 
 
72 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Of her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520 
 Upon the river-bank ; and now to hail 
 His wonted guests, with eager steps advanc'd 
 The unsuspecting inmate of the shade. 
 
 As when a famish'd wolf, that all night long 
 Had rang'd the Alpine snows, by chance at morn 
 Sees from a cliff incumbent o'er the smoke 5*2,6 
 
 Of some lone village, a neglected kid 
 That strays along the wiid for herb or spring ; 
 Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain, 
 And thinks he tears him : so with tenfold rage, 530 
 The monster sprung remorseless on his prey. 
 Amaz'd the stripling stood : with panting breast 
 Feebly he pour'd the lamentable wail 
 Of helpless consternation, struck at once, 
 And rooted to the ground. The queen beheld 535 
 His terror, and with looks of tenderest care 
 Advanc'd to save him. Soon the tyrant felt 
 Her awful power. His keen ; tempestuous arm 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 73 
 
 Hung nerveless, nor descended where his rage 
 Had aim'd the deadly blow : then dumb retir'd 
 With sullen rancour. Lo ! the sovereign maid 541 
 Folds with a mother's arms the fainting boy 5 
 Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek ; 
 Then grasps his handstand cheers him with her tongue. 
 
 Oh wake thee, rouze thy spirit ! Shall the spite 
 Of yon tormentor thus appal thy heart, 546 
 
 While I, thy friend and guardian, am at hand 
 To rescue and to heal? Oh let thy soul 
 Remember what the will of heaven ordains 
 Is ever good for all ; and if for all, 550 
 
 Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth 
 And soothing sunshine of delightful things, 
 Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled 
 By that bland light, the young unpractis'd views 
 Of reason wander through a fatal road, 555 
 
 Far from their native aim : as if to lie 
 Inglorious in the fragrant shade^ and wait 
 
74 THE PLEASURES 
 
 The soft access of ever circling joys, 
 
 Were all the end of being. Ask thyself, 
 
 This pleasing error did it never lull 560 
 
 Thy wishes ? Has thy constant heart refus'd 
 
 The silken fetters of delicious ease ? 
 
 Or when divine Euphrosyne appear'd 
 
 Within this dwelling, did not thy desires 
 
 Hang far below the measure of thy fate, 565 
 
 Which I reveal'd before thee ? and thy eyes, 
 
 Impatient of my counsels, turn away 
 
 To drink the soft effusion of her smiles ? 
 
 Know then, for this the everlasting Sire 
 
 Deprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570 
 
 O wise and still benevolent ! ordains 
 
 This horrid visage hither to pursue 
 
 Thy steps ; that so thy nature may discern 
 
 Its real good, and what alone can save 
 
 Thy feeble spirit in this hour of ill 575 
 
 From folly and despair. O yet belov'd ! 
 
 Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelm 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 75 
 
 Thy scatter'd powers ; nor fatal deem the rage 
 
 Of this tormentor, nor his proud assault, 
 
 While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580 
 
 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 585 
 
 To bondage and to scorn : while thus enur'd 
 
 By watchful danger, by unceasing toil, 
 
 The immortal mind, superior to his fate, 
 
 Amid the outrage of external things, 
 
 Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590 
 
 Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds ! 
 
 Ye waves I ye thunders ! roll 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, 595 
 
 The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck; 
 
 And ever stronger as the storms advance, 
 
76 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Firm through the closing ruin holds his way, 
 Where Nature calls him to the destin'd goal. 
 
 So spake the goddess ; while through all her frame 
 Ccelestial raptures flow'd, in every word, 601 
 
 In every motion kindling warmth divine 
 To seize who listen'd. Vehement and swift 
 As lightning fires the aromatic shade 
 In ^Ethiopian fields, the stripling felt 605 
 
 Her inspiration catch his fervid soul. 
 And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd : 
 
 Then let the trial come ! and witness thou, 
 If terror be upon mc; if I shrink 
 To meet the storm, or faulter in my strength 610 
 When hardest it besets me. Do not think 
 That I am fearful and infirm of soul, 
 As late thy eyes beheld : for thou hast chang'd 
 My nature ; thy commanding voice has wak'd 
 My languid powers to bear me boldly on, 61 & 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 77 
 
 Where'er the will divine my path ordains 
 Through toil or peril : only do not thou 
 Forsake me ; Oh be thou for ever near, 
 . That I may listen to thy sacred voice. 
 And guide by thy decrees my constant feet 620 
 But say ? for ever are my eyes bereft ? 
 Say, shall the fair Euphrosyne not once 
 Appear again to charm me ? Thou, in heaven ! 
 O thou eternal Arbiter of things ! 
 Be thy great bidding done : for who am I, 625 
 To question thy appointment ? Let the frowns 
 Of this avenger every morn o'ercast 
 The cheerful dawn, and every evening damp 
 With double night my dwelling ; I will learn 
 To hail them both, and unrepining bear 630 
 
 His hateful presence ; but permit my tongue 
 One glad request, and if my deeds may find 
 Thy awful eye propitious, oh restore 
 The rosy-featur'd maid ; again to cheer 
 This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles. 635 
 
78 THE PLEASURES 
 
 He spoke ; when instant thro' the sable glooms 
 With which that furious presence had involv'd 
 The ambient air, a flood of radiance came 
 Swift as the lightning flash ; the melting clouds 
 Flew diverse, and amid the blue serene 6 40 
 
 Euphros) ne appear'd. With sprightly step 
 The nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn, 
 And to her wondering audience thus began ; 
 
 Lo ! I am h^re to answer to your vows, 
 And be the meeting fortunate ! I come 645 
 
 With joyful tidings ; we shall part no more — 
 Hark ! how the gentle Echo from her cell 
 Talks thro' the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the stream 
 Repeats the accents, We shall part no more. 
 O my delightful friends ! well pleas'd on high 650 
 The Father has beheld you, while the might 
 Of that stern foe with bitter trial prov'd 
 Your equal doings ; then for ever spake 
 The high decree: That thou, celestial maid I 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 79 
 
 Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy steps 655 
 
 May sometimes dare intrude, yet never more 
 Shalt thou, descending to the abode of man, 
 Alone endure the rancour of his arm. 
 Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyne behind* 
 
 She ended : and the whole romantic scene 660 
 Immediate vanished ; rocks, and woods, and rills. 
 The mantling tent, and each mysterious form, 
 Flew like the pictures of a morning dream, 
 When sun-shine fills the bed. Awhile I stood 
 Perplex'd and giddy ; till the radiant power 66$ 
 Who bade the visionary landscape rise, 
 As up to him I turn'd, with gentlest looks 
 Preventing my inquiry, thus began : 
 
 There let thy soul acknowledge its complaint 
 How blind, how impious ! There behold theways 
 Of Heaven's eternal destiny to man, 67l 
 
 For ever just, benevolent, and wise ; 
 j2 
 
80 THE PLEASURES 
 
 That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued 
 
 By vexing Fortune and intrusive Pain, 
 
 Should never be divided from her chaste, 675 
 
 Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need I urge 
 
 Thy tardy thought thro' all the various round 
 
 Of this existence, that thy softening soul 
 
 At length may learn what energy the hand 
 
 Of Virtue mingles in the bitter tide 680 
 
 Of Passion swelling with Distress and Pain, 
 
 To mitigate the sharp with gracious drops 
 
 Of cordial Pleasure ? Ask the faithful youth, 
 
 Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd 
 
 So often fills his arms ; so often draws 685 
 
 His lonely footsteps at the silent hour. 
 
 To pay the mournful tribute of his tears ? 
 
 Oh ! he will tell thee, that the wealth of world* 
 
 Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 
 
 That sacred hour, when, stealing from the noise 660 
 
 Of care and envy, sweet remembrance sooths 
 
 With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, 
 
J.farkcrscutp! 
 
 t,,/,/s l <Kty*t* „/,/«„ itf . ^ ffcf/t l*/i Udf/u/y , A/, 
 
 ^//w ^ h/yy^/c u/y/^y I 
 
 Ful&e/udarfttdct Jin ws A^r/'j^j/oj bv&dbitJtDarietStmnd. 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 81 
 
 And turns his tears to rapture, — Ask the crowd 
 
 Which flies impatient from the village walk 
 
 To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below 
 
 The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coast 69Q 
 
 Some helpless bark ; while sacred Pity melts 
 
 The general eye, or Terror's icy hand 
 
 Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair ; 
 
 While every mother closer to her breast 700~ 
 
 Catches her child 3 and pointing w r here the waves 
 
 Foam thro' the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud, 
 
 As one poor wretch that spreads his piteous arms 
 
 For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, 
 
 As now another, dash'd against the rock, 705 
 
 Drops lifeless down : Oh ! deemest thou indeed 
 
 No kind endearment here by -Nature given 
 
 To mutual Terror and Compassion's tears ? 
 
 No sweetly-melting softness which attracts, 
 
 O'er all that edge of pain, the social powers 710 
 
 To this their proper action and their end ? 
 
 i — Ask thy own heart ; w hen at the midnight hour 
 
82 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Slow thro' that studious gloom thy pausing eye 
 
 Led by the glimmering taper moves around 
 
 The sacred volumes of the dead, the songs 715 
 
 Of Grecian bards, and records writ by Fame 
 
 For Grecian heroes, where the present Power 
 
 Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, 
 
 Even as a father blessing, while he reads 
 
 The praises of his son. If then thy soul, 720 
 
 Spurning the yoke of these inglorious days, 
 
 Mix in their deeds, and kindle with their ilame ; 
 
 Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view, 
 
 When rooted from the base, heroic states 
 
 Mourn in the dust, and tremble at the frown 7%5 
 
 Of curs'd ambition ; when the pious band 
 
 Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires. 
 
 Lie side by side in gore ; when ruflian pride 
 
 Usurps the throne of justice, turns the pomp 
 
 Of public power, the majesty of rule, 730 
 
 The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, 
 
 To slavish empty pageants, to adorn 
 
-OF IMAGINATION* 83 
 
 A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes 
 Of such as bow the knee ; when honour'd urns 
 Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust 735 
 
 And storied arch, to glut the coward-rage 
 Of regal envy, strew the public way 
 With hallow'd ruins ; when the Muse's haunt, 
 The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk 
 With Socrates or Tully, hears no more, 740 
 
 Save the hoarse jargon of contentious monks, 
 Or female Superstition's midnight prayer ; 
 When ruthless Rapine from the hand of Time 
 Tears the destroying scythe, with surer blow 
 To sweep the works of glory from their base ; 745 
 Till Desolation o'er the grass-grown street 
 Expands his raven-wings, and up the wall, 
 Where senates once the price of monarchs doom'd, 
 Hisses the gliding snake thro' hoary weeds 
 Tiiat clasp the mouldering column ; thus defae'd, 
 Thus widely mournful when the prospect thrills 
 Thy beating bosom, when the patriot's tear 751 
 
$4 THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, 
 
 Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm 
 
 In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove 
 
 To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, 755 
 
 Or dash Octavius from the trophied car ; 
 
 Say, does thy secret soul repine to taste 
 
 The big distress ? Or wouldst thou then exchange 
 
 Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot 
 
 Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd 760 
 
 Of mute barbarians bending to his nod, 
 
 And bears aloft his gold-invested front, 
 
 And says within himself, "lama king, 
 
 (i And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe 
 
 66 Intrude upon mine car ? — " The baleful dregs 
 
 Of these late ages, this inglorious draught 766 
 
 Of servitude and folly, have not yet, 
 
 Blest be the eternal Ruler of the World ! 
 
 Defil'dto such a depth of sordid shame 
 
 The native honours of the human soul, 770 
 
 JVor so effac'd the image of its Sire. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
THIRD BOOK 
 
 PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 THE pleasure of observing the tempers and manners of meft, 
 even where vicious or absurd. — The origin of vice, from 
 false representations of the fancy, producing false opinions 
 concerning good and evil. — Inquiry into ridicule. — The gene- 
 ral sources of ridicule in the minds and characters of men enu- 
 merated. — Final cause of the sense of ridicule. — The resem- 
 blance of certain aspects of inanimate things to the sensations 
 and properties of the mind. The operations of the mind in the 
 production of the works of the imagination, described. — The 
 secondary pleasure from imitation. — The benevolent order of 
 the world illustrated in the arbitrary connection of these pleasures 
 with the objects which exite them. — The nature and conduct 
 of taste. — Concluding with an account of the natural and 
 moral advantages resulting from a sensible and well- formed 
 imagination. 
 
THE 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 OF 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 VV HAT wonder therefore, since the endearing ties 
 Of passion link the universal kind 
 Of man so close, what wonder if to search 
 This common Nature thro' the various change 
 Of sex, and age, and fortune, and the frame 5 
 
 Of each peculiar, draw the busy mind 
 With unresisted charms : The spacious West, 
 And all the teeming regions of the South 
 Hold not a quarry, to the curious flight 
 Of knowledge, hajf so tempting or so fair, 10 
 
88 THE PLEASURES 
 
 As man to man. Nor only where the smiles 
 
 Of love invite ; nor only where the applause 
 
 Of cordial honour turns the attentive eye 
 
 On Virtue's graceful deeds. For since the course 
 
 Of things external acts in different ways 15 
 
 On human apprehensions, as the hand 
 
 Of Nature temper'd to a different frame 
 
 Peculiar minds ; so haply where the powers 
 
 Of Fancy neither lessen nor enlarge 
 
 The images of things, but paint in all 20 
 
 Their genuine hues, the features which they wore 
 
 In Nature ; there Opinion will be true, 
 
 And Action right. For Action treads the path 
 
 In which Opinion says he follows good. 
 
 Or flies from evil ; and Opinion gives 25 
 
 Report of good or evil, as the scene 
 
 Was drawn by Fancy, lovely or deform'd: 
 
 Thus her report can never there be true 
 
 Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye 
 
 With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 89 
 
 Is there a man who at the sound of death 
 
 Sees ghastly shapes of Terror conjur'd up, 
 
 And black before him ; nought but death-bed groans 
 
 And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink 
 
 Of light and being, down the gloomy air 35 
 
 An unknown depth ? Alas ! in such a mind 
 
 If no bright forms of excellence attend 
 
 The image of his country ; nor the pomp 
 
 Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice 
 
 Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40 
 
 The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame ; 
 
 Will not Opinion tell him, that to die, 
 
 Or stand the hazard, is a greater ill 
 
 Than to betray hh country ? And in act 
 
 Will he not choose to be a wretch, and live ? 45 
 
 Here Vice begins then. From the enchanting cup 
 
 Which Fancy holds to all, the unwary thirst 
 
 Of youth oft swallows a Circean draught, 
 
 That sheds a baneful tincture o'er the eye 
 
 Of Reason, till no longer he discerns, 50 
 
SO THE PLEASURES 
 
 And only guides to err. Then revel forth 
 
 A furious band that spurn him from the throne! 
 
 And all is uproar. Thus Ambition grasps 
 
 The empire of the soul : thus pale Revenge 54 
 
 Unsheaths her murderous dagger; and the hands 
 
 Of Lust and Rapine, with unholy arts, 
 
 Watch to o'erturh the barrier of the laws 
 
 That keeps them from their prey : thus all the plagues 
 
 The wicked bear, or o'er the trembling scene 
 
 The Tragic Muse discloses, under shapes t)0 
 
 Of honour, safety, pleasure, ease, or pomp, 
 
 Stole first into the mind. Yet not by all 
 
 Those lying forms which Fancy in the brain 
 
 Engenders, are the kindling passions driven 
 
 To guilty deeds ; nor Reason bound in chains, C5 
 
 That Vice alone may lord it : oft adorn'd 
 
 With solemn pageants, Folly mounts the throne, 
 
 And plays her idiot antics, like a queen. 
 
 A thousand garbs she wears ; a thousand ways 
 
 She wheels her giddy empire. — Lo ! thus far 70 
 
OF IMAGINATION. Qt 
 
 With bold adventure, to the Mantuan lyre 
 
 I sing of Nature's charms, and touch well-pleas' d 
 
 A stricter note : now haply must my song 
 
 Unbend her serious measure, and reveal 
 
 In lighter strains, how Folly's awkward arts 75 
 
 Excite impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke ; 
 
 The sportive province of the Comic Muse. 
 
 See ! in what crowds the uncouth forms advance : 
 Each would outstrip the other, each prevent 
 Our careful search, and offer to your gaze, 80 
 
 Unask'd, his motley features. Wait awhile, 
 My curious friends ! and let us first arrange 
 In proper order your promiscuous throng. 
 
 Behold the foremost band ; of slender thought, 
 And easy faith ; whom nattering Fancy sooths 85 
 With lying spectres, in themselves to view 
 Illustrious forms of excellence and good, 
 That scorn the mansion. With exulting hearts 
 
$$ THE PLEASURES 
 
 They spread their spurious treasures to the sun. 
 And bid the world admire ! but chief the glance 90 
 Of wilful Envy draws their joy-bright eyes, 
 And lifts with self-applause each lordly brow. 
 In numbers boundless as the blooms of spring. 
 Behold their glaring idols, empty shades 
 By Fancy gilded o'er, and then set up 95 
 
 For adoration. Some in Learning's garb, 
 With formal band, and sable-cinctured gown, 
 And rags of mouldy volumes. Some elate 
 "With martial splendor, steely pikes and swords 
 Of costly frame, and gay Phoenician robes 100 
 
 Inwrought with flowery gold, assume the port 
 Of stately Valour : listening by his side 
 There stands a female form ; to her, Avith looks 
 Of earnest import, pregnant with amaze, 
 He talks of deadly deeds, of breaches, storms, 105 
 And sulphurous mines, and ambush : then at once 
 Breaks off, and smiles to see her look so pale, 
 And asks some wondering question of her fears* 
 
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QT IMAGINATION. $5 
 
 Others of graver mien ; behold, adorn'd 
 
 With holy ensigns, how sublime they move, 110 
 
 Asid bending oft their sanctimonious eyes 
 
 Take homage of the simple-minded throng ; 
 
 Ambassadors of heaven ! Nor much unlike 
 
 Is he whose visage, in the lazy mist 
 
 That mantles every feature, hides a brood 115 
 
 Of politic conceits ; of whispers, nods, 
 
 And hints deep omen'd with un wieldly schemes, 
 
 And dark portents of state, ten thousand more 
 
 Prodigious habits and tumultuous tongues. 
 
 Pour dauntless in, and swell the boastful band. 120 
 
 Then comes the second order ; all who seek 
 The debt of praise, where watchful unbelief 
 Darts through the thin pretence her squinting eye 
 On some retir'd appearance which belies 
 The boasted virtue, or annuls the applause 125 
 That justice else would pay. Here side by side 
 I see two leaders of the solemn train 
 
gi THE PLEASURES 
 
 Approaching : one a female old and grey. 
 
 With eyes demure, and wrinkle furrow'd brow, 
 
 Pale as the cheeks of death ; yet still she stuns 130 
 
 The sickening audience with a nauseous tale, 
 
 How many youths her myrtle-chains have worn,. 
 
 How many virgins at her triumphs pin'd ! 
 
 Yet how resolv'd she guards her cautious heart ; 
 
 Such is her terror at the risques of love, 135 
 
 And man's seducing tongue! The other seems 
 
 A bearded sage, ungentle in his mien, 
 
 And sordid all his habit ; peevish want 
 
 Grins at his heels, while down the gazing throng 
 
 He stalks, resounding in magnific phrase 140 
 
 The vanity of riches, the contempt 
 
 Of pomp and power. Be prudent in your zeal, 
 
 Ye grave associates ! let the silent grace 
 
 Of her who blushes at the fond regard 
 
 Her charms inspire, more eloquent unfold 145 
 
 The praise of spotless honour : let the man 
 
 Whose eye regards not his illustrious pomp 
 
OF IMAGINATION. f5 
 
 And ample store, but as indulgent streams 
 
 To cheer the barren soil and spread the fruits 
 
 Of joy, let him by juster measures fix 150 
 
 The price of riches and the end of power* 
 
 Another tribe succeeds ; deluded long 
 
 By Fancy's dazzling optics, these behold 
 
 The images of some peculiar things 
 
 With brighter hues resplendent, and pourtray'd 155 
 
 With features nobler far than e'er adorn'd 
 
 Their genuine objects. Hence the fever'd heart 
 
 Pants with delirious hope for tinsel charms ; 
 
 'Hence oft obtrusive on the eye of scorn, 
 
 Untimely zeal her witless pride betrays ! 160 
 
 And serious manhood from the towering aim 
 
 Of Wisdom, stoops to emulate the boast 
 
 Of childish toil. Behold yon mystic form, 
 
 Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds, and shells ! 
 
 Not with intenser view the Samian sage 165 
 
 Cent his fix'd eye on heaven's intenser fires, 
 ii 2 
 
96 THE PLEASURES 
 
 When first the order of that radiant scene 
 
 Swell'd his exulting thought, than this surreys 
 
 A muckworm's entrails or a spider's fang. 
 
 Next him a youth, with flowers and myrtles crown'd, 
 
 Attends that virgin form, and blushing kneels, 171 
 
 With fondest gesture and a suppliant's tongue, 
 
 To win her coy regard : adieu, for him, 
 
 The dull engagements of the bustling world ! 
 
 Adieu the sick impertinence of praise ! 175 
 
 And hope and action! for with her alone, 
 
 By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours, 
 
 Is all he asks, and all that fate can give ! 
 
 Thee too, facetious Momion^ wandering here, 
 
 Thee, dreaded censor, oft have I beheld 180 
 
 Bewilder'd unawares: alas! too long 
 
 Flush'd with thy comic triumphs and the spoils 
 
 Of sly derision ! till on every side 
 
 Hurling thy random bolts, offended truth 
 
 Assign'd thee here thy station with the slaves 185 
 
 Of folly. . Thy once formidable name 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 97 
 
 Shall grace her humble records, and be heard 
 
 In scoffs and mockery bandied from the lips 
 
 Of all the vengeful brotherhood around, 
 
 So oft the patient victims of thy scorn. ISO 
 
 But now, ye gay ! to whom indulgent fate, 
 Of all the Muses' empire hath assign'd 
 The fields of folly, hither each advance 
 Your sickles ; here the teeming soil affords 
 Its richest growth. A favourite brood appears ; 1$5 
 In whom -the daemon, with a mother's joy, 
 Views all her charms reflected, all her cares 
 At full repaid. Ye most illustrious band ! 
 Who, scorning reason's tame, pedantic rules, 
 And order's vulgar bondage, never meant 200 
 
 For souls sublime as yours, with generous zeal 
 Pay Vice the reverence Virtue long usurp'd, 
 And yield Deformity the fond applause 
 Which Beauty wont to claim ; forgive my song* 
 That for the blushing diffidence of youth, 205 
 
 It shuns the unequal province of your praise. 
 
V& THE PLEASURES 
 
 Thus far triumphant in the pleasing guile 
 Of bland imagination, folly's train 
 Havedar'd our search: but now a dastard-kind 
 Advance reluctant, and with faultering feet 210 
 
 Shrink from the gazer's eye : enfeebled hearts 
 Whom Fancy chills with visionary fears, 
 Or bends to servile tameness with conceits', 
 Of shame, of evil, or of base defect, 
 Fantastic and delusive. Here the slave 215 
 
 Who drops abash'd when sullen pomp surveys 
 His humbler habit \ here the trembling wretch 
 Unnerv'd and struck with terror's icy bolts, 
 Spent in weak wailings, drown'd in shameful tears, 
 At every dream of danger ; here subdu'd 220 
 
 By frontless laughter and the hardy scorn 
 Of old, unfeeling vice, the abject soul, 
 Who blushing half resigns the candid praise 
 Of temperance and honour ; half disowns 
 A freeman's hatred of tyrannic pride ; 225 
 
 And hears with sickly smiles the venal mouth 
 With foulest licence mock the patriot's name. 
 
off Imagination. 99 
 
 M 
 
 Last of the motley bands on whom the power 
 Of gay derision bends her hostile aim. 
 Is that where shameful ignorance presides. 230 
 
 Beneath her sordid banners, lo ! they march, 
 Like blind and lame. Whate'er their doubtful hands 
 Attempt, confusion straight appears behind. 
 And troubles all the work. Through many amaze, 
 Perplex' d they struggle, changing every path, 235 
 O'erturning every purpose ; then at last 
 Sit down dismayed, and leave the entangled scene 
 For scorn to sport with. Such then is the abode 
 Of Folly in the mind ; and such the shapes 
 In which she governs her obsequious train* 24Q 
 
 Through every scene of ridicule in things 
 To lead the tenor of my devious lay ; 
 Through every swift occasion which the hand 
 Of laughter points at, when the mirthful sting 
 Distends her sallying nerves and choaks her tongue ^ 
 What were it but to count each crystal drop 24® 
 
100 Tilt: PLEASURES 
 
 Which Morning's dewy fingers on the blooms 
 Of May distil ? Suffice it to have said, 
 Where'er the power of ridicule displays 
 Her quaint-ey r d visage, some incongruous form, 250 
 Some stubborn dissonance of things combin'd 
 Strikes on the quick observer : whether Pomp, 
 Or Praise, or Beauty, mix their partial claim 
 Where sordid fashions, where ignoble deeds, 
 Where foul deformity, are wont to dwell ; 255 
 
 Or whether these with violation loath'd, 
 Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, 
 The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise* 
 
 Ask we for what fair end, the Almighty Sire 
 In mortal bosoms wakes this gay contempt, 260 
 These grateful stings of laughter, from disgust 
 Educing pleasure^? Wherefore but to aid 
 The tardy steps of reason, and at once 
 By this prompt impulse urge us to depress 
 The giddy aims of folly ?. Though the light 2C5 
 
OF IMAGINATION". 101 
 
 Of Truth slow dawning on the inquiring mindy 
 At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie r 
 How these uncouth disorders end at last 
 In public evil ! yet benignant Heaven, 
 Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears 270 
 To thousands ;. conscious what a scanty pause 
 From labours and from care, the wider lot 
 Of humble life affords for studious thought 
 To scan the maze of nature ; therefore stamp'd 
 The glaring scenes with characters of scorn, 275 
 
 As broad, as obvious, to the passing clown, 
 As to the letter'd sage's curious eye. 
 
 Such are the various aspects of the mind — 
 Some heavenly genius, whose unclouded thoughts 
 Attain that secret harmony which blends 280 
 
 The aetherial spirit with its mould of clay ; 
 Oh ! teach me to reveal the grateful charm 
 That searchless Nature o'er the sense of man 
 Diffuses, to behold, in lifeless things, 
 
102 THE PLEASURES 
 
 The inexpressive semblance of himself, 285 
 
 Of thought and passion. Mark the sable woods 
 That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow ; 
 With what religious awe the solemn scene 
 Commands your steps ! as if the reverend form 
 Of Minos or of Numa should forsake 290 
 
 The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade 
 Move to your pausing eye ! Behold the expanse 
 Of yon gay landscape, where the silver clouds 
 Flit o'er the heavens before the sprightly breeze : 
 Now their grey cincture skirts the doubtful sun; 
 Now streams of splendor, through their opening veil 
 Effulgent, sweep from off the gilded lawn 
 The aerial shadows ; on the curling brook. 
 And on the shady margin's quivering leaves 
 With quickest lustre glancing, while you view 306 
 The prospect, say, within your cheerful breast 
 Plays not the lively sense of winning mirth 
 With clouds and sun-shine chequer'd, while the round 
 Of .social converse, to the inspiring tonguo 
 
©* IMAGINATION. 103 
 
 Of some gay nymph amid her subject train, 305 
 Moves all obsequious ? Whence is this effect, 
 This kindred power of such discordant things ? 
 Or flows their semblance from that mystic tone 
 To which the new-born mind's harmonious powers 
 At first were strung? Or rather from the links 310 
 Which artful custom twines around her frame ? 
 
 For when the different images of things 
 By chance combin'd, have struck the attentive soul 
 With deeper impulse, or, connected long. 
 Have drawn her frequent eye ; howe'er distinct 315 
 The external scenes, yet oft the ideas gain 
 From that conjunction an eternal tie, 
 And sympathy unbroken. Let the mind 
 Recall one partner of the various league, 
 Immediate, lo ! the firm confederates rise, 320 
 
 And each his former station straight resumes : 
 One movement governs the consenting throng. 
 And all at once with rosy pleasure shine, 
 
104 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Or all are sadden'd with the glooms of care. 
 'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, 325 
 Two faithful needles, from the informing touch 
 Of the same parent-stone, together drew 
 Its mystic virtue, and at first conspir'd 
 "With fatal impulse quivering to the pole: 
 Then tho' disjoint! by kingdoms tho' the main 
 RolPd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars 331 
 Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved 
 The former friendship, and remember'd still 
 The alliance of their birth: whate'cr the line 
 Which one possess'd, nor pause, nor quiet knew 335 
 The sure associate, ere with trembling speed 
 He found its path, and fixed unerring there. 
 Such is the secret union, when we feel 
 A song, a flower, a name, at once restore 339 
 
 Those long- connected scenes where first they mov'd 
 The attention : backward through her mazy walks 
 Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope, 
 To temples, courts^ or fields ; with all the band 
 
OF IMAGINATION-. 105 
 
 Of painted forms, of passions and designs 
 Attendant : whence, if pleasing in itself, 345 
 
 The prospect from that sweet accession gains 
 Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. 
 
 By these mysterious ties the busy power 
 Of memory her ideal train preserves 
 Entire; or when they would elude her watch, 350 
 Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste 
 Of dark oblivion ; thus collecting all 
 The various forms of being to present. 
 Before the curious aim of mimic art, 
 Their largest choice : like spring's unfolded blooms 
 Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee 356 
 
 May taste at will, from their selected s poils 
 To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse 
 Of living lakes in summer's noon-tide claim, 
 Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens 
 With fairer semblance ; not the sculptur'd gold 361 
 More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace 3 
 
106 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Than he whose birth the sister powers of art 
 Propitious view'd, and from his genial star 
 Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind ; 365 
 Than his attempered bosom must preserve 
 The seal of Nature. There along unchang'd, 
 Her form remains. The balmy walks of May 
 There breathe perennial sweets : the trembling chord 
 Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, 370 
 
 Melodious : and the virgin's radiant eye, 
 Superior to disease, to grief, and time. 
 Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length 
 Endow 'd with all that nature can bestow. 
 The child of fancy oft in silence bends 375 
 
 O'er these mixt treasures of his pregnant breast, 
 With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves 
 To frame he knows not what excelling things ; 
 And win he knows not what sublime reward 
 Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind 380 
 Feels her young nerves dilate : the plastic powers 
 Labour for action : blind emotions heave 
 
OF IMAGINATION. 107 
 
 His bosom ; and with loveliest frenzy caught, 
 
 From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, 
 
 From heaven to earth. Anon ten thou and shapes,. 
 
 Like specters trooping to the wizard's call, 386 
 
 Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, 
 
 From ocean's bed they come : the eternal heavens 
 
 Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss 
 
 Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze 390 
 
 He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares 
 
 Their different forms ; now blends them, now divides, 
 
 Enlarges, and extenuates by turns ; 
 
 Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands, 
 
 And infinitely varies. Hither now, 395 
 
 Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, 
 
 With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan 
 
 Begins to open. Lucid order daw r ns ; 
 
 And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds 
 
 Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd 400 
 
 Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd 
 
 Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sua 
 
108 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Sprung up the blue serene ; by swift degrees 
 
 Thus disentangled, his entire design 
 
 Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, 405 
 
 And lines converge : the fainter parts retire : 
 
 The fairer eminent in light advance ; 
 
 And every image on its neighbour smiles. 
 
 Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy 
 
 Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, 410 
 
 Into its proper vehicle he breathes 
 
 The fair conception ; which, embodied thus, 
 
 And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears 
 
 An object ascertain'd; while thus inform'd. 
 
 The various organs of his mimic skill, 415 
 
 The consonance of sounds, the featur'd rock, 
 
 The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, 
 
 Beyond their proper powers attract the soul 
 
 By that expressive semblance, while in sight 
 
 Of Nature's great original we scan 420 
 
 The lively child of art ; while line by line, 
 
 And feature after feature we refer 
 
OF IMAGINATION. -109 
 
 To that sublime exemplar whence it stole 
 Those animating charms. Thus beauty's palm 
 Betwixt them wavering hangs : applauding love 425 
 Doubts where to choose ; and mortal man aspires 
 To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud 
 Of gathering hail with limpid crusts of ice 
 Enclos'd and obvious to the beaming sun, 
 Collects his large effulgence ; straight the heavens 
 With equal flames present on either hand 431 
 
 The radiant visage : Persia stands at gaze, 
 Appall'd ; and on the brink of Ganges doubts 
 The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, 
 To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, 435 
 To which his warbled orisons ascend. 
 
 Such various bliss the well-tun'd heart enjoys, 
 Favour'd of heaven! while, plung'd in sordid cares^ 
 The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine : 
 And harsh austerity, from whose rebuke 440 
 
 Young love and smiling wonder shrink away 
 
110 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns 
 
 Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, 
 
 Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge 
 
 Casts a disdainful eye ; and calls my toil, 445 
 
 And calls the love and beauty which I sing. 
 
 The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor ! say, 
 
 Is beauty then a dream, because the glooms 
 
 Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, 
 
 To let her shine upon thee? So the man 450 
 
 Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, 
 
 Might smile with scorn while raptur'd vision tells 
 
 Of the gay-colour' d radiance flushing bright 
 
 O'er all creation. From the wise be iar 454 
 
 Such gross unhallow'xl pride; nor needs my song 
 
 Descend so low ; but rather now unfold, 
 
 If human thought could reach, or worlds unfold, 
 
 By what mysterious fabric of the mind, 
 
 The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound 
 
 Result from airy motion ; and from shape 460 
 
 The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. 
 
OF IMAGINATION. Til 
 
 By what fine ties hath God connected things 
 
 When present in the mind, which in themselves 
 
 Have no connection ? Sure the rising sun 
 
 O'er the coeruleart convex of the sea, 465 
 
 With equal brightness, and with equal warmth 
 
 Might roll his fiery orb ; nor yet the soul 
 
 Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers 
 
 Exulting in the splendor she beholds; 
 
 Like a young conqueror moving thro' the pomp 
 
 Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, 471 
 
 Soft- murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath 
 
 Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain 
 
 Attemper, could not man's discerning ear 
 
 Through all its tones the sympathy pursue ; 475 
 
 Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy 
 
 Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd hearty 
 
 Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song. 
 
 But wjre not Nature still endow'd at large 
 With all which life requires, tho' unadorn'd 480 
 h 2 
 
1M THE PLEASURES 
 
 Wich such enchantmen t ? Wherefore then her form 
 
 So exquisitely fair ! her breath perfum'd 
 
 With suclf aetherial sweetness ? whence her voice 
 
 Inform' d at will to raise or to depress 
 
 The inipassion'd soul ? and whence the robes of light 
 
 Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp 486 
 
 Than fancy can describe ? Whence but from thee, 
 
 O Source divine of ever-flowing love," 
 
 And thy unmeasur'd goodness ? Not content 
 
 With every food -of life to nourish man, 490 
 
 By kind illusions of the wondering sense 
 
 Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, 
 
 Or music to his ear : well-pleas'd he scans 
 
 The goodly prospect; and with inward smiles 
 
 Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain ; 495 
 
 Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, 
 
 And living lamps that over-arch his head 
 
 With more than regal splendor; bends his ears 
 
 To the full choir of water, air, and earth ; 
 
 Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 
 
OF IMAGINATIONS M& 
 
 Nor doubts the painted green or azure\ arch, 
 
 Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds 
 
 Than space, or motion, or eternal time ; 
 
 So sweet he feels their influence to attract 
 
 The fixed soul ; to brighten the dull glooms 50& 
 
 Of care, and make the destin'd road of life 
 
 Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, - 
 
 The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, 
 
 Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells 
 
 Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510. 
 
 A visionary paradise disclos'd 
 
 Amid the dubious wild : with streams, and shades,. 
 
 And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, 
 
 Cheers his long labours and renews his frame, 
 
 What then is taste, but these internal powers 515 
 Active, and strong, and feelingly alive 
 To each fine impulse? a discerning sense 
 Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust 
 From things deform'd, or disarrang'd, or gross 
 
114' THE PLEASURES 
 
 In species? Tfiis, .nor gems, nor stores of gold, 520 
 
 Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow ; 
 
 But God alone, when first his active hand 
 
 Imprints the secret bias of the soul. 
 
 He, mighty parent! wise and just in all, 
 
 Eree as the vital breeze or light of heaven, 525 
 
 Reveals the charms of Nature* Ask the swain 
 
 Who journeys homeward from a summer-day's 
 
 Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils 
 
 And due repose, he loiters to behold 
 
 The sun-shine gleaming as thro' amber clouds, 5 30 
 
 G'er all the western sky ; full soon, I ween, 
 
 His rude expression and untutor'd airs. 
 
 Beyond the power of language, will unfold 
 
 The form of beauty smiling at his heart, 
 
 How lovely ! how commanding ! But tho' heaven 
 
 In every breast hath sown these early seeds 53Q 
 
 Of love and admiration, yet in vain, 
 
 Without fair Culture's kind parental aid, 
 
 Without enlivening suns, and genial showers,. 
 
OF IMAGINATION* 1 1 5 
 
 And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 540 
 
 The tender plant should rear its blooming head. 
 
 Or yield the hardest 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 545 
 
 The olive or the laurel* Differeut minds 
 
 Incline to different objects : one pursues 
 
 The vast alone, the wonderful,, the wild ; 
 
 Another sighs for harmony, and grace, 549 
 
 And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires 
 
 The arch, of heaven, 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 the mighty uproar, while below 555 
 
 The nations tremble, Shakespear looks abroad 
 
 From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys 
 
 The elemental war. But Waller longs, 
 
 All on the margin of some flowery stream 
 
116 THE PLEASURES;^ 
 
 To spread his careless limbs amid the cool 560 
 
 Of plantain shades, and to the listening deer 
 The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain 
 Resound soft-warbling, all the live-long day : 
 Consenting Zephyr sighs ; the weeping rill 564 , 
 
 Joins in his plaint, melodious ; mute the groves ; 
 And hili and dale with all their echoes mourn. 
 Such and so various are the tastes of men. 
 
 Oh! blest of heaven, whom not the languid songs 
 Of luxury, the syren ! not the bribes 
 Of sordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils 570 
 
 Of pageant honour can seduce to leave 
 Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the storo 
 Of Nature fair imagination culls 
 To charm the enliven ? d soul ! What tho' not all 
 Of mortal offspring can attain the heights 575 
 
 Of envied life ; though only few possess 
 Patrician treasures of imperial state? 
 Yet Nature's 'rare, to all her child? on just. 
 
OB IMAGINATrra, 117" 
 
 With richer treasures and an ampler state 
 
 Endows at large whatever happy man 580 
 
 Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp. 
 
 The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns 
 
 The princely dome, the column and the arch. 
 
 The breathing marbles and the sculptur'd gold, 
 
 Beyond the proud possessor's narraw claim, 585 
 
 His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring .u 
 
 Distils her dews, and from the silken gem 'd 
 
 Its lucid leaves unfolds : for him, the hand -—" 
 
 Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch _ 
 
 With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn. 590 
 
 Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings ; 
 
 And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, 
 
 And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze 
 
 Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes 
 
 The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain 595 
 
 From all the tenants of the warbling shade 
 
 Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake 
 
 Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes 
 
118 THE PLEASURES 
 
 Fresh pleasure only: for the attentive mind, 
 
 By this harmonious action on her powers 600 
 
 Becomes herself harmonious : wont so oft 
 
 In outward things to meditate the charm 
 
 Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home 
 
 To find a kindred order, to exert 
 
 Within herself this elegance of love, 605 
 
 This fair inspired delight : her tempered powers 
 
 Refine at length, and every passion wears 
 
 A chaster,, milder,, more attractive mien. 
 
 But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze 
 
 On Nature's form, where, negligent of all 610 
 
 These lesser graces, she assumes the port 
 
 Of that eternal Majesty that weigh'd 
 
 The world's foundations, if to these the mind 
 
 Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far 614 
 
 Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms 
 
 Of servile custom cramp her generous powers ? 
 
 Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth 
 
 Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down 
 
OB IMAGINATION. 119 
 
 To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? 
 
 Lol she appeals to Nature, to the winds 620- 
 
 And roiling waves, . the sun's unwearied course, 
 
 The elements and seasons : all declare 
 
 For what the eternal Maker has ordain'd 
 
 The powers of man: we feel within ourselves 
 
 His energy divine : he tells the heart, 62& 
 
 He meant^ he made us to behold and love 
 
 What he beholds and loves, the general orb 
 
 Of life and being; to be great like him, 
 
 Beneficent and active. Thus the men 
 
 Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself * 
 
 Hold converse ;.grow familiar, day by day, 63 1 
 
 With his conceptions ; act upon his plan : 
 
 And form to,his, the relish of their souls.. 
 
NOTES 
 
 FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Ver. .151. Say, why was man, Sec, 
 
 J.N apologizing for the frequent negligences of ikt 
 sublimest authors of Greece, " Those god-like 
 u geniuses," says Longinus, ^ were well assured, 
 ** that Nature had not intended man for a low- 
 ic spirited or ignoble being : but bringing us into 
 u life and the midst of this wide universe, as before 
 u a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity, 
 * ; that we might be spectators of all her magnifi* 
 ic cence^ and candidates high in emulation for the 
 u prize of glory ; she has therefore implanted in 
 
122 NOTES OS 
 
 <c our souls an inextinguishable love of every thing 
 u great and exalted, of every thing which appears 
 (c divine beyond our comprehension. Whence it 
 u comes to pass, that even the whole world is not 
 <Q an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of 
 Xi human imagination^ which often sallies forth be- 
 * c yond the limits of all that surrounds us. Let 
 u any man cast his eye through the whole circle of 
 ci our existence, and consider how especially it 
 u abounds in excellent and grand objects ; he will 
 <i soon acknowledge for what enjoyments and pur. 
 u suits we were destined. Thus by the very pro- 
 (i pensity of Nature we are led to admire, not little 
 f c springs or shallow rivulets, however clear and 
 cc delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, 
 " and, much more than all, the Ocean, &c." 
 Dionys, Long, dcSublim. § xxiv. 
 
 Ver. 202. The empyreal waste* 
 f* Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand cspace 
 
THE FIRST BOOK, 123 
 
 "au dela de la region des etoiles? Que se soit le 
 iC ciel entpyree, ou non, toujours cet espace im. 
 " mense qui environne toute eette 'region, pourra 
 u etre rempli de bonheur et de gloire. II pourra 
 " etre concu comme Pocean, ou se rendent les 
 u fleuves de toutes les creatures bienheu reuses, 
 iC quand elles seront venues a luer perfection dans 
 " le systeme des etoiles." Leibnitz dans la 
 Theodicee, part i. § 19. 
 
 Ver. 204. Whose unfading light, 8zc. 
 It was a notion of the great Mr. Huygens, that 
 there may be fixed stars- at such a distance from our 
 solar system, as that their light should not have had 
 time to reach us, even from the creation of the 
 "World to this day. 
 
 Ver. 234. the neglect 
 
 Of all familiar prospects^ &c. 
 It is here said, that in consequence of the lore 
 
124 NOTES 0» 
 
 of novelty, objects which at first were highly delight- 
 ful to the mind, lose that effect by repeated attention 
 to them. But the instance of habit is opposed to 
 this observation ; for there ^ objects at first distaste- 
 ful are in time rendered entirely agreeable by repeat- 
 ed attention. 
 
 The difficulty in this case will be removed, if we 
 consider, that, when objects at first agreeable, lose 
 that influence by frequently recurring, the mind is 
 wholly passive^ and the perception involuntary ; but 
 habit, on the other hand, generally supposes choice 
 and activity accompanying it : so that the pleasure 
 arises here not from the object, but from the mind's 
 conscious determination of its own activity ; and 
 consequently increases in proportion to the frequency 
 of that determination. 
 
 It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity 
 
 with disagreeable objects renders them at length 
 acceptable, even when there is no room for the 
 mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the ap- 
 pearance must be accounted for, one of these ways. 
 
THE FIRST BOOK. 125 
 
 The pleasure from habit may be merely negitive. 
 The object at first gave uneasiness : this uneasiness 
 gradually wears off as the object grows familiar: 
 and the mind, finding it at last entirely removed, 
 reckons its situation really pleasureable, compared 
 with what it had experienced before. 
 
 The dislike conceived of the object at first, might 
 be owing to prejudice or want of attention. Con- 
 sequently the mind, being necessitated to review it 
 often, may at length perceive its own mistake, and 
 be reconciled to what it had looked on -with aver- 
 sion. In which case, a sort of instinctive justice 
 »aturalJy leads it to make amends for the injury, by 
 running toward the other extreme of fondness and 
 attachment. 
 
 Or lastly, though the object itself should always 
 continue disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure 
 ©r good fortune may occur along with it. Thus 
 an association may arise in the mind, and the object 
 ©ever be remembered without those pleasing cir- 
 
 M 
 
126 NOTES ON 
 
 cumstances attending it ; by which means the dis- 
 agreeable impression which it at first occasioned 
 will in time be quite obliterated* 
 
 Ver. 240. this desire 
 
 Of objects new and strange 
 
 These two ideas are often confounded ; though 
 it is evident the mere novelty of an object makes it 
 agreeable, even where the mind is not affected with 
 the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed 
 always implies novelty, being never excited by com. 
 snon or well-known appearances. But the pleasure 
 in both cases is explicable from the same final cause, 
 the acquisition of knowledge and enlargement of 
 our views of Nature ; on this account, it is natural 
 to treat of them together. 
 
 Ver. 374. Truth and good are one, 
 
 Andbeauty dzoells in them, &c. 
 46 Do you imagine," say Socrates to Arsitippus, 
 
THE FIRST BOOK. 127 
 
 u that what is good is not beautiful ? Have you 
 u not observed that these appearances always coin- 
 4i cide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect 
 4i as to which we call it good, is ever acknowledged 
 *' to be beautiful also. In the characters of men 
 ft we always * join the two denominations together. 
 4i The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in 
 u like manner, with that ceconomy of parts which 
 *' constitutes them good; and in every circum- 
 u stance of life the same object is constantly ac- 
 u counted both beautiful and good, inasmuch as it 
 u answers the purposes for which it was designed." 
 Xenophont. Memorab. Socrat. 1. iii. c. 8. 
 
 This excellent observation has been illustrated 
 and extended by the noble restorer of ancient phi- 
 losophy : see the Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 339 and 
 422; and vol. iii. p. 181. And another ingenious 
 
 * This the Athenians did in a particular manner, by the 
 word HaKoiiafaQh, HahoKafuQU. 
 
 M 2 
 
128 NOTES ON 
 
 author has particularly shewn, that it holds in tire 
 general laws of Nature, in the works of art, and the 
 conduct of the sciences : Inquiry into the Original of 
 our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, Treat, i. § 8. As 
 to the connection between beauty and truth, there 
 are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers 
 assert an independent and invariable law in Nature, 
 in consequence of which u all rational beings must 
 u alike perceive beauty in some certain propor- 
 a tions, and deformity in the contrary." And this 
 necessity being supposed the same with that which 
 commands the assent or dissent of the understanding, 
 it follows of course that beauty is founded on tins 
 universal and unchangeable law of truth. 
 
 But others there are, w ho believe beauty to be 
 merely a relative and arbitrary thing ; that indeed it 
 was a benevolent provision in Nature to annex so 
 delightful a sensation to those objects which are best 
 and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be 
 engaged to the choice of them at once, and without 
 
THE FIRST BOOK. 129 
 
 staying to infer their usefulness from their structure 
 and effects ; but that it is not impossible, in a phy- 
 sical sense, that two beings, of equal capacities for 
 truth 5 should perceive, one of them beauty y and the 
 other deformity, in the same proportions. And upoa 
 this supposition, by that truth which is always con. 
 nected with beauty, nothing more can be meant than 
 the conformity of any object to those proportions 
 upon which, after careful examination, the beauty 
 of thaj: species is found to depend* Polycletus, for 
 instance, a famous ancient sculptor, from an accurate 
 mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect 
 
 human bodies, deduced a canon or system of pro- 
 portions, which was the rule of all succeeding artists. 
 
 Suppose a statue modelled according to this : a man 
 of mere natural taste, upon looking at it, without 
 entering into its proportions, confesses and admires 
 its beauty : whereas a professor of the art applies 
 his measures to the head, the neck, or the hand, 
 and, without attending to its beauty, pronounces 
 the workmanship to be just and true* 
 
ISO NOTES OS 
 
 Ver. 492. As when Brutus rose % &c. 
 Cicero himself describes this fact — iC Caesare 
 u interfecto — statim cruentum alte extollens M. 
 u Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim excla- 
 u mavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatcm est gratu- 
 "latus." Cic Phillipp. ii. 12. 
 
 Ver. 548. Where virtue rising from the awful depth 
 Of truth's mysterious bosom^ &c. 
 According to the opinion of those who assert 
 moral obligation to be founded on an immutable and 
 universal law ; and that which is usually called the 
 moral sense y to be determined by the peculiar tem- 
 per of the imagination and earliest associations 
 of ideas. 
 
 Ver. 591. Lyceum. 
 The school of Aristotle* 
 
THE FIRST BOOK. ♦ 131 
 
 Ver. 592. Academus* 
 The school of Plato. 
 
 Ver. 594. Ilyssus. 
 One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. 
 Plato, in some of his finest dialogues, lays the scene 
 of conversation with Socrates on its banks. 
 
NOTES 
 
 SECOND BOOK. 
 
 Yer. 19. At last the Muses rose, &e. 
 
 ixBOUT the age of Hugh Capet, founder of the 
 third race of French kings, the poets of Provence 
 were in high reputation ; a sort of strolling bards 
 or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes 
 and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with 
 music and poetry. They attempted both the epic 
 ode, and satire; and abounded in a wild and fantastic 
 vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly founded 
 on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These 
 were the rudiments of Italian poetry. But their 
 4aste uncj composition must have been extremely 
 
134 NOTES ON 
 
 barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed 
 the turn of their fable in much politer times; such 
 as Boiardo, Bernardo, Tasso, Ariosto, &c. 
 
 Ver. 21. Valclusa. 
 The famous retreat of Francisco Petrarcha, the 
 father of Italian poetry, and his mistress Laura, a 
 lady of Avignon. 
 
 Ver. 22. Amo. 
 The river which runs by Florence, the birth- 
 place of Dante and Boccacio. 
 
 Ver. 23. Partkenope* 
 Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The 
 great Torquato Tasso was born at Sorrento, in the 
 kingdom of Naples. 
 
 Ver. 23. the rage 
 
 Of dire ambition, &c. 
 This relates to the cruel wars among the repub* 
 
THE SECOND BOOK. 135= 
 
 lies of Italy, and abominable politics of its little 
 princes, about the fifteenth century. These at last ? 
 in conjunction with the Papal power, entirely ex- 
 tinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and 
 established that abuse of the fine arts which has 
 been since propagated over all Europe* 
 
 Ver. 30. Thus from their guardians torn, Sec. 
 
 Nor were they only losers by the separation. For 
 philosophy itself, to use the words of a noble phi- 
 losopher, u being thus severed by the sprightly arts 
 u and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, 
 w insipid^ pedantic, useless, and directly opposite 
 " to the real knowledge and practice of the world." 
 Insomuch that u a Gentleman," says another excel- 
 lent writer, a cannot easily bring himself to like so 
 a austere and ungainly a form $ so greatly is it 
 4 < changed from what was once the delight of the 
 u finest Gentlemen of antiquity, and their recrea- 
 u tion after the hurry of public affairs !" From thi& 
 condition it cannot be recovered but by uniting it 
 
J 30 
 
 NOTES ON 
 
 once more with the works of imagination ; and ws 
 hare had the pleasure of observing a very great pro- 
 gress made towards their union in England within 
 these few years. It is hardly possible to conceive 
 them at a greater distance from each other than at the 
 Revolution, when Locke stood at the head of one 
 party, and Dryden of the other. But the general 
 spirit of liberty, which has ever since been growing, 
 naturally invited our men of wit and genius to im- 
 prove that influence which the arts of persuasion 
 gave them with the people, by applying them to sub- 
 jects of importance to society. Thus poetry and 
 eloquence became considerable ; and philosophy is 
 now of course obliged to borrow of their embellish- 
 ments, in order even to gain audience with the 
 public. 
 
 Ver. 157. From Passion's pozcer alone, &c. 
 
 This very mysterious kind of pleasure, which if 
 often found in the exercise of passions generally 
 counted painful, has been taken notice of by several 
 
THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
 137 
 
 authors. Lutretius resolves it into self-love : 
 
 " Suave Mari magno," &c. lib. ii. 1. 
 As if a man was never pleased in being moved at the 
 distress of a tragedy, without a cool reflection that 
 though these fictitious personages were so unhappy, 
 yet he himself was perfectly at ease and in safety. 
 The ingenious author of the Reflections Critiques sur 
 le Poesie, Sf sur la Peinture^ accounts for it by the 
 general delight which the mind takes in its own 
 activity, and the abhorrence it feels of an indolent 
 and inattentive state : and this, joined with the 
 moral approbation of its own temper, which attends 
 these emotions when natural and just, is certainly 
 the true foundation of the pleasure, which, as it is 
 the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, deserved a 
 very particular consideration in this poem. 
 
 Ver. 304, Inhabitant of earthy Sec. 
 The account of the ceconomy of Providence here 
 introduced, as the most proper to calm and satisfy 
 
138 NOTES ON 
 
 the mind when under the compunction of private 
 evils, seems to have come originally from the Py- 
 thagorean school : l)ut of the ancient philosophers, 
 Plato has most largely insisted upon it, has established 
 it with all the strength of his capacious understand- 
 ing, and ennobled it with all the magnificence of his 
 cdivine imagination. He has one passage so full and 
 clear on this head, that I am persuaded the reader 
 will be pleased to see it here, though somewhat long. 
 Addressing himself to such as are not satisfied con- 
 cerning Divine Providence : u The Being who pre- 
 " sides over the whole," says he, " has disposed and 
 46 complicated all things for the happiness and vir- 
 46 tue of the whole, every part of which, according 
 4C to the extent of its influence, does and suffers 
 46 what is fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, 
 4C O unhappy man, which though in itself most in- 
 4C considerable and minute, yet being connected with 
 44 the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that 
 " supreme order. You in the mean time are igno- 
 
THE SECOND BOOK, 139 
 
 * c rant of the very end for which all particular 
 " natures are brought into existence, that the all- 
 €c comprehending nature of the whole may be per- 
 " feet and happy ; existing as it does, not for your 
 u sake, but the cause and reason of your existence, 
 u which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, 
 4C must of necessity concur with the general design 
 u of the artist, and be subservient to the whole of 
 * c which it is a part. Your complaint therefore is 
 ff ignorant and groundless ; since, according to the 
 ? 4 various energy of creation, and the common laws 
 u of Nature, there is a constant provision of that 
 u which is best at the same time for you and for the 
 H whole. — For the governing Intelligence clearly 
 46 beholding all the actions of animated and self- 
 46 moving creatures, and that mixture of good and 
 4i evil which diversifies them, considered first of all 
 4i by what disposition of things, and by what situ- 
 4i ation of each individual in the general system, 
 & vice might be depressed and subdued, and virtue 
 
140 NOTES ON 
 
 * made secure of victory and happiness, with the 
 " greatest facility, and in the highest degree possible: 
 u In this manner he ordered through the entire cir- 
 u cle of being, the internal constitution of every 
 u mind, where should be its station in the universal 
 u fabric, and through what variety of circumstances 
 u it should proceed in the whole tenour of its 
 u existence." He goes on in his sublime manner 
 to assert a future state of retribution, u as well for 
 M those who, by the exercise of good dispositions 
 u being harmonized and assimilated into the divine 
 ic virtue, are consequently removed to a place of 
 " unblemished sanctity and happiness; as of those 
 * c who by the most flagitious arts have risen from 
 u contemptible beginnings to the greatest affluence 
 iC and power, and whom you therefore look upon 
 u as unanswerable instances of negligence in the 
 iC gods, because you arc ignorant of the purposes 
 <c to which they are subservient, and in what man- 
 iC ner they contribute to that supreme intention of 
 Ci good to the whole." Plato de Leg. x» 16. 
 
THE SECOND BOOK. 141 
 
 This theory has been delivered of late, especially 
 abroad, in a manner which subverts the freedom of 
 human actions ; whereas Plato appears very careful 
 to preserve it, and has been in that respect imitated 
 by the best of his followers. 
 
 Ver. 321. one might rise, 
 
 One order , &c. 
 See the Meditations of Antoninus, and the Cha- 
 racteristics, passim. 
 
 Ver, 355, The best and fairest, &c. 
 This opinion is so old, that Timseus Locrus calls 
 the Supreme Being ^^tapyos rw 0ekrtov^ 9 u the 
 u artificer of that which is best j" and represents him 
 as resolving in the beginning to produce the most 
 excellent work, and as copying the world most 
 exactly from his own intelligible and essential idea ; 
 " so that it yet remains, as it was at first, perfect 
 u in beauty, and will never stand in need of any 
 N 
 
142 NOTES ON THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
 u correction or improvement." There can be no 
 room for a caution here, to understand the expres- 
 sions, not of any particular circumstances of human 
 life separately considered, but of the sum of univer- 
 sal system of life and being. See also the vision at 
 the end of the Theodicee of Leibnitz. 
 
 Ver. 305. As flame ascends, &c. 
 This opinion, though not held by Plato nor any 
 of the ancients, is yet a very natural consequence of 
 his principles. But the disquisition is too complex 
 and extensive to be entered upon here. 
 
 Ver. 755. Philip. 
 The Macedonian. 
 
NOTES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 THIRD BOOK. 
 
 Ver. 18. Where the powers 
 
 Of Fancy, &c. 
 
 J. HE influence of the Imagination on the conduct 
 of life, is one of the most important points in moral 
 philosophy. It were easy by an induction of facts 
 to prove that the Imagination directs almost all the 
 passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance 
 of action or pleasure. Let any man, even of the 
 coldest head and soberest industry, analyse the idea 
 of what he calls his interest; he will find that it 
 consists chiefly of certain degrees of decency, beauty, 
 and order, variously combined into one system, the 
 idol which he seeks to enjoy by labour, hazard, and 
 n 2 
 
144 NOTES ON 
 
 self-denial. It is on this account of the last conse- 
 quence io regulate these images by the standard of 
 Nature, and the general good ; otherwise the imagi- 
 nation, by heightening some objects beyond their 
 real excellence and beauty, or by representing others 
 in a more odious or terrible shape than they deserve, 
 may of course engage us in pursuits utterly incon- 
 sistent with the moral order of things. 
 
 If it be objected that this account of things sup- 
 poses the passions to be merely accidental, whereas 
 there appears in some a natural and hereditary dis- 
 position to certain passions prior to all circumstances 
 of education or fortune ; it may be answered, that 
 though no man is born ambitious or a miser^ yet he 
 may inherit from his parents a peculiar temper or 
 complexion of mind, which shall render his imagina- 
 tion more liable to be struck with some particular 
 objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions 
 of good and ill, and entertain passions of a par- 
 ticular turn. Some men, for instance, by the 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 145 
 
 original frame of their minds, are more delighted 
 with the vast and magnificent; others, on the con- 
 trary, with the elegant and gentle aspects of Nature. 
 And it is very remarkable, that the disposition of the 
 moral powers is always similar to this of the Ima- 
 gination ; that those who are most inclined to admire 
 prodigious and sublime objects in the physical world, 
 are also most inclined to applaud examples of for- 
 titude and heroic virtue in the moral. While those 
 who are charmed rather with the delicacy and sweet- 
 ness of colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail 
 in like manner to yield the preference to the softer 
 scenes of virtue, and the sympathies of a domestic 
 life. And this is sufficient to account for the 
 objection. 
 
 Among the ancient philosophers though we have 
 several hints concerning this influence of the Ima- 
 gination upon the morals among the remains of the 
 Socratic sehool,yet the Stoics were the first who paid 
 it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought 
 
146 NOTES ON 
 
 it impossible to preserve any tolerable regularity in 
 life, without frequently inspecting those Pictures or 
 appearances of things, which the imagination offers 
 to the mind (Diog. Laert. 1. vii.) The meditations 
 of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, 
 are full of the same sentiment ; insomuch that the 
 latter makes the Xfio-is da, &7 <pavW/£v, or " right 
 u management of the fancies^" the only thing for 
 which we are accountable to Providence, and with- 
 out which a man is no other than stupid or frantic. 
 Arrian. 1. i. c. 12. & 1. ii. c. 22. See also the 
 Characteristics, vol. i. from p. 313 to 321, where 
 this Stoical doctrine is embellished with all the 
 elegance and graces of Plato. 
 
 Ver. 75. how Folios awkzcard arts, &c» 
 
 Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule 
 on private and civil life, as well as on learning and 
 the sciences, it has been almost constantly neglected 
 or misrepresented by divines especially. The man- 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 147 
 
 ner of treating these subjects in th science of human 
 nature, should be precisely the same as in natural 
 philosophy ; from particular facts to investigate the 
 stated order in which they appear, and then apply 
 the general law, thus discovered, to the explication 
 of other appearances, and the improvement of useful 
 arts. 
 
 Ver. 84. Behold the foremost band, &c. 
 The first and most general source of ridicule in 
 the characters of men, is vanity, or self-applause for 
 some desirable quality or possession which evidently 
 * does not belong to those who assume it. 
 
 Ver. 121. Then comes the second order, Sec. 
 Ridicule from the same vanity, where, though the 
 possession be real, yet no merit can arise from it, 
 because of some particular circumstances, which, 
 though obvious to the spectator, are yet overlooked 
 by the ridiculous character. 
 
148 NOTES ON 
 
 Ver. 152. Another tribe succeeds, &c. 
 Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular 
 objects disproportioned to their intrinsic value, and 
 inconsistent with the order of Nature* 
 
 Ver. 191. But now, ye gay, &c. 
 Ridicule from a notion of excellence, when the 
 object is absolutely odious or contemptible. This is 
 the highest degree of the ridiculous ; as in the affec- 
 tation of diseases or vices. 
 
 Ver. 207. Thus far triumphant, &c. 
 Ridicule from false shame, or groundless fear, f 
 
 Ver. 228. Last of the motley bands, &c. 
 Ridicule from the ignorance of such things as our 
 circumstances require us to know. 
 
 Ver. 248. Suffice it to have said, &c. 
 By comparing these general sources of ridicule 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 149 
 
 with each other, and examining the ridiculous in 
 other objects, we may obtain a general definition of 
 it, equally applicable to every species. The most 
 important circumstance of this definition is laid 
 down in the lines referred to ; but others more minute 
 we shall subjoin here. Aristotle's account of the 
 matter seems both imperfect and false : the ridi- 
 culous is " some certain fault or turpitude without 
 6C pain 9 and not destructive to its subject." (Poet* 
 c. 5.) For allowing it to be true, asitis not, that the 
 ridiculous is never accompanied with pain, yet we 
 might produce many instances of such a fault or tur- 
 pitude, which cannot with any tolerable propriety be 
 called ridiculous. So that the definition does not 
 distinguish the thing designed. Nay farther ; even 
 when we perceive the turpitude tending to the de- 
 struction of its subject, we may still be sensible of a 
 ridiculous appearance, till the ruin become imminent, 
 and the keener sensations of pity or terror banish the 
 ludicrous apprehension from our minds. For the 
 
150 NOTES OS 
 
 sensation of ridicule is not a bare perception of the 
 agreement or disagreement of ideas ; but a passion or 
 emotion of the mind consequential to that perception. 
 So that the mind may perceive the agreement or dis- 
 agreement, and yet not feel the ridiculous, because. it 
 is engrossed by a more violent emotion. Thus it 
 happens that some men think those objects ridiculous, 
 to which others cannot endure to apply the name; 
 because in them they excite a much intenser and 
 more important feeling. And this difference, among 
 other causes, has brought a good deal of confusion 
 into this question. 
 
 u That which makes objects ridiculous, is some 
 w ground of admiration or esteem connected with 
 u other more general circumstances comparatively 
 u worthless or deformed ; or it is some circumstance 
 u of turpitude or deformity connected with what is 
 " in general excellent or beautiful : the inconsistent 
 u properties existing either in the objects themselves, 
 w or in the apprehension of the person to whom 
 
THE THIRD BOOK, 151 
 
 u they relate ; belonging always to the same order 
 16 or class of being; imply sentiment or design; and 
 " exciting no acute or vehement emotion of the 
 " heart." 
 
 To prove the several parts of this definition : "The 
 " appearance of excellency or beauty connected with 
 Ci a general condition, comparatively sordid or 
 u deformed," is ridiculous : for instance, pompous 
 pretensions of wisdom joined with ignorance or folly 
 in the Socrates of Aristophanes ; and the ostenta- 
 tions of military glory with cowardice and stupidity 
 in the Thraso of Terence. 
 
 The appearance of deformity or turpitude in 
 u conjunction with what is in general excellent or 
 u venerable," is also ridiculous : for instance, the 
 personal weakness of a magistrate appearing in the 
 solemn and public functions of his station. 
 
 u The incongruous properties may either exist in 
 f f the objects themselves, or in apprehension of the 
 " person to whom they relate :" in the last-men- 
 
152 NOTES ON 
 
 tioned instance,they both exist in the objects ; in the 
 instances from Aristophanes and Terence, one of 
 them is objective and real, the other only founded in 
 the apprehension of the ridiculous character. 
 
 cc The inconsistent properties must belong to the 
 i6 same order or class of being." A coxcomb in fine 
 cloaths, bedaubed by accident in foul weather, is a 
 ridiculous object ; because his general apprehension 
 of excellence and esteem is referred to the splendour 
 and expence of his dress. A man of sense and merit, 
 in the same circumstances, is not counted ridiculous : 
 because the general ground of excellence and esteem 
 in him is, both in fact and in his own apprehension, 
 of a very different species. 
 
 a Every ridiculous object implies sentiment or 
 cc design." A column placed by an architect without 
 a capital or base, is laughed at : the same column in 
 a ruin causes a very different sensation. 
 
 And lastly, M the occurence must excite no acute 
 16 or vehement emotion of the heart/' such as Terror^ 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 153 
 
 Pity, or Indignation ; for in that case, as was 
 observed above, the mind is not at leisure to con- 
 template the ridiculous, 
 
 Ver. Z59. Ask we for what fair end, &c. 
 Since it is beyond all contradiction evident that 
 we have a natural sense or feeling of the ridiculous^ 
 and since so good a reason may be assigned to justify 
 the Supreme Being for bestowing it ; one cannot 
 without astonishment reflect on the conduct of those 
 men who imagine it is for the service of true religion 
 to vilify and blacken it without distinction, and 
 endeavour to persuade us that it is never applied but 
 in a bad cause. Ridicule is not concerned with 
 mere speculative truth or falsehood. It is not m 
 abstract propositions or theorems, but in actions and 
 passions, good and evil, beauty and deformity, that 
 we find materials for it ; and all these terms are 
 relative, implying approbation or blame. To ask 
 them whether ridicule be a test of truth, 13, in other 
 
155 NOTES ON 
 
 words, to ask whether that which is ridiculous can be 
 morally true^ can be just and becoming; or whether 
 that which is just and becoming, can be ridiculous ? 
 A question that does not deserve a serious answer. 
 For it is most evident, that, as in a metaphysical, 
 proposition offered to the understanding for its 
 assent, the faculty of reason examines the terms of 
 the proposition, and finding one idea, which was sup- 
 posed equal to another, to be in fact unequal, of 
 consequence rejects the proposition as a falsehood ; 
 so, in objects offered to the mind for its esteem and 
 applause, the faculty of ridicule, finding an incon- 
 gruity in the claim, urges the mind to reject it with 
 laughter and contempt. When therefore, we observe 
 such a claim obtruded upon mankind, and the 
 inconsistent circumstances carefully concealed from 
 the eye of the public, it is our business, if the matter 
 be of importance to society, to drag out those 
 latent circumstances, and, by setting them in full 
 view, to convince the world how ridiculous the 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 154 
 
 claim is : and thus a double advantage is gained \ for 
 we both detect the moral falsehood sooner than in the 
 way of speculative inquiry, and impress the minds 
 of men with a stronger sense of the vanity and error 
 of its authors. And this and no more is meant by 
 the application of ridicule. 
 
 But it is said, the practice is dangerous, and may 
 be inconsistent with the regard we owe to objects of 
 real dignity and excellence. I answer, the practice 
 fairly managed can never be dangerous ; men may 
 be dishonest in obtruding circumstances foreign to 
 the object, and we may be inadvertent in allowing 
 those circumstances to impose upon us: but the sense 
 of ridicule always judges right. The Socrates of 
 Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a character as ever 
 was drawn : — true ; but it is not the character of 
 Socrates, the divine moralist and father of ancient 
 wisdom. What then ? did the ridicule of the poet 
 hinder the philosopher from detecting and disclaim^ 
 ing those foreign circumstances which he had falsely 
 
156 NOTES ON 
 
 introduced into his character, and thus rendered the 
 satirist doubly ridiculous in his turn ? no ; but it 
 nevertheless had an ill influence on the minds of the 
 people. And so has the reasoning of Spinoza made 
 many atheists : he has founded it indeed on suppo r 
 sitions utterly false ; but allow him these, and his 
 conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must 
 reject the use of ridicule,because, by the imposition 
 of false circumstances, things may be made to seem 
 ridiculous, which are not so in themselves ; why 
 we ought not in the same manner to reject the use of 
 reason, because, by proceeding on false principles, 
 conclusions will appear true which are impossible in 
 Nature, let the vehement and obstinate declaimers 
 against ridicule determine. 
 
 Ver. 285. The inexpressive semblance, &c. 
 This similitude is the foundation of almost all the 
 ornaments of poetic diction. 
 
THE THIRD BOOK. 157 
 
 Ver. 326. Two faithful needles^ &c. 
 See the elegant poem recited by Cardinal Bembo, 
 in the character oi Lucretius; Straba Prolufc. y'u 
 Acadeni. 2. c. v. 
 
 Ver. 348. By these mysterious ties, &c. 
 The act of remembering seems almost wholly t% 
 depend on the association of ideas. 
 
 Ver. 411. Into its proper vehicle , &c. 
 This relates to the different sorts of corporeal 
 mediums, by which the ideas of the artists are ren- 
 dered palpable to the senses ; as hy sounds in music ; 
 by lines and shadows in painting \ by diction m 
 poetry, &c. 
 
 Ver. 547. One pursue? 
 
 The vast alone, &c. 
 See. the note on ver. 18 of this book, 
 or 
 
158 NOTES ON 
 
 Ver. 558. Waller longs, &c. 
 u Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay 
 " Under the plantain shade; and all the day 
 u With amorous airs my fancy entertain, &c. 
 
 Waller, Battle of Sum. Islands, Canto I. 
 And again, 
 " W T hile in the park I sing, the listening deer 
 " Attend my passion, and forget to fear," &c. 
 
 At Penshurst. 
 
 Ver. 593. Not a breeze, &c. 
 That this account may not appear rather poeti- 
 cally extravagant than just in philosophy, it may 
 be proper to produce the sentiment of one of the 
 greatest, wisest, and best of men on this head ; one 
 so little to be suspected of partiality in the case, 
 that he reckons it among those favours for which 
 he was especially thankful to the gods, that they 
 tad not suffered him to make any great proficiency 
 
THE THIRD fiOOR. 159 
 
 in the arts of eloquence and poetry, lest by that 
 means he should have been diverted from pursuits 
 of more importance to his high station. Speaking* 
 of the beauty of universal Nature, he observes, that 
 u there is a pleasing and graceful aspect in every 
 u object we perceive," when once we consider its 
 connection with that general order. He instances 
 in many things which at first sight would be thought 
 rather deformities; and then adds, "that a man who 
 u enjoys a sensibility of temper, withajust compre- 
 " hension of the universal order, will discern many 
 u amiable things, not credible to every mind, hnt 
 u to those alone who have entered into an honor* 
 " able familiarity with Nature, and her works." — 
 M. Antonin. iii. 2. 
 
 #INIS. 
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