Page:The Pleasures of Imagination - Akenside (1744).djvu/105

The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say,
Is beauty then a dream because the glooms
Of dullness hang too heavy on thy sense
To let her shine upon thee? So the man450
Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heav'n,
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 far
Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song455
Descend so low; but rather now unfold,
If human thought could reach, or words unfold,
By what mysterious fabric of the mind,
The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound
Result from airy motion; and from shape460
The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair.
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 cærulean convex of the sea,465
With equal brightness and with equal warmth
Might rowl his fiery orb; nor yet the soul
Thus feel her frame expanded, and her pow'rs
Exulting in the splendor she beholds;
Like a young conqu'ror moving thro' the pomp470
Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve,
Soft-murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath
Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain
Attemper, could not man's discerning ear