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Thy power unjust, thou traitor slave!
Shall fall on thy own head"— From out of hearing of the king
Departed then the sled.
King Edward's soul rush'd to his face,
He turn'd his head away, And to his brother Gloucester
He thus did speak and say:
"To him, that so-much-dreaded death
No ghastly terrors bring;
He's greater than a king I"
"So let liim die I" Duke Richard said "And may each one our ibes
Bend down their necks to bloody axe,
And now the horses gently drew
The axe did glister in the sun,
Sir Charles did up the scaffold go,
As up a gilded car
Gaind in the bloody war.
And to the people he did say:
"Behold you see me die, For serving loyally my king,
My king most rightfully.
As long as Edward rules this land,
No quiet you will know; Your sons and husbands shall be slain,
And brooks with blood shall flow.
You leave your good and lawful king,
When in adversity;
And for the true cause die."
Then he, with priests, upon his knees,
Beseeching him imto himself
Then, kneeling down, he laid his head
Which from his body fair at once
And out the blood began to flow,
And tears, enough to wash't away,
The bloody axe his body fair
Into four partis cut;
Upon a pole was put.
One on the minster-tower,
The crowen did devour.
A dreary spectacle;
In high street most noble.
God prosper long our king,
In heaven God's mercy sing I
O God, whose thunder shakes the sky,
Whose eye this atom globe surveys; To Thee, my only rock, I fly,
Thy mercy in thy justice praise.
The mystic mazes of thy will,
The shadows of celestial light,
But what the Eternal acts is right
O teach me in the trying hour,
When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own thy power,
Thy goodness love, thy justice fear.
If in this bosom aught bnt Thee
Encroaching sought a boundless sway,
Omniscience could the danger see,
Then why, my soul, dost thou complain t
Why drooping seek the dark recess 1 ,
Shake off the melancholy chain, 1'
Foj God created all to bless.
But ah! my breast is human still—
The rising sigh, the falling tear, My languid vitals' feeble rill,
The sickness of my soul declare.
But yet, with fortitude resign'd,
I'll thank th' inflicter of the blow; Forbid the sigh, compose my mind,
Nor let the gush of misery flow.
The gloomy mantle of the night,
Which on my sinking spirits steals, Will vanish at the morning light,
Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals.
MARK AKENSIDE. 1721—1770.
Fxw English poets of the eighteenth century are to be mnked before the author of " The Pleasures of the Imagination." He was born on the 9th of November, 1721, at Neweastle-upon-Tyne, an J was edncated at the University of Edinburgh. His parents designed him for the ministry, but as his edncation progressed, other views governed him, and he devoted himself to the study of medicine as his future profession. After remaining three years at the Scottish capital, he went to Leyden, where he also studied three years, and took his degree of M. D. in 1744. Returning home the same year, he published his poem, " The Pleasures of the Imagination/' On ottering the copy to Dodsley, he demanded £120 for the manuscript, but the wary publisher hesitated at paying snch a price for the work of an unknown youth of twenty, three. He therefore showed the work to Pope, when the latter, having glanced over a few pages, said, "Don't be niggardly about the terms, for this is no every-day writer."
No sooner was it published than it excited great attention, and received goneml applause. But he could not reap from it "the means whereby to live," and he betook himself to the pmctice of his profession. He first settled in Northampton; but finding little encoumgement there, he removed to Hampstead, and thence finally to Loudon. Here he experienced the difficulty of getting into notice in a large city, and though he acquired seveml professional henors, he never obtained any large share of pmctice. He was busy in presenting himself to public notice, by publishing medical essays and observations, and delivering lectures, when his career was terminated by a putrid fever, on the 23d of January, 1770.
The Pleasures of the Imagination is written in blank verse, with great heauty of versification, elegance of language, and splendor of imagery. Its object is to tmce the various pleasures which we receive from nature and art to their respective principles in the human imagination, and to show the connection of those principles with the moml dignity of man. and the final purposes of his creation.1 This task Akenside has executed in a most admimble manner. If his philosophy be not always correct, his geneml ideas of moml truth are lofty and prepossessing. He is peculiarly eloquent in those passages in which he describes the final causes of our emotions of taste; he is equally skilful in delineating the processes of memory and association; and he gives an animating view of Genius collecting her stores for works of excellence. Of this poem Dr. Johnson remarks, "It has undoubtedly a just claim to a very
• Nonius and uncommon the original inspiration, under which he had written the work, does not appear to have been ready at his call.1
INTRODUCTION. THE SUBJECT PROPOSED.
With what attractive charms this goodly frame
OA have the laws of each poetic strain
I Read—Mr*. BarhntiM'a elegant F.anay, prefixed to an edition of Ids poem, published In 1796; In which she characterizes his renin* a* lofty and elegant, rhnjtc, class<tal, and correct.
Of nature and the mu9es bids explore,
But not alike to every mortal eye
Man's Immortal Aspirations.
Say, why was man so eminently raised 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 th' Omnipotent might send him forth In sight of mortal and immortal powers, 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, And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward, Th' applauding smile of heaven? Else wherefore bums