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The pleasures of imagination

 
dc.contributor Burnard, Lou Computing Service, University of Oxford
dc.contributor.author Akenside, Mark, 1721-1770
dc.date.accessioned 2018-07-27
dc.date.accessioned 2022-08-21T16:15:24Z
dc.date.available 2022-08-21T16:15:24Z
dc.date.created 1744
dc.date.issued 1980-01-01
dc.identifier ota:0392
dc.identifier.uri http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/0392
dc.description.abstract Title proper taken from the main portion of the title of the earliest printed copy to hand: 4th ed., 1744 This text is incomplete
dc.format.extent Text data (1 file : ca. 83 KB)
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Oxford Text Archive Legacy Collection
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.uri http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Poems -- Great Britain -- 18th century
dc.subject.other Poems
dc.title The pleasures of imagination
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 85001
files.count 1
identifier.ee Akenside, Mark, 1721-1770 http://dx.doi.org/10.13051/ee:bio/akensmark0000049
identifier.lccn Akenside, Mark, 1721-1770 http://id.loc.gov/authorities/names/n83170964
otaterms.date.range 1700-1799

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<B 1>
<P 5>
<L 1>
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
<P 6>
To deck the poet's, or the painter's toil,
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
Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull
Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf
Where Shakespeare lies, be present; and with thee
Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings
Wafting ten thousand colours through the air,
And, by the glances of her magic eye,
Combining each in endless fairy forms,
Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre
Which rules the accents of the moving sphere,
Wilt thou, eternal Harmon! descend
And join this festive train? for with thee comes
The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports,
Majestic Truth; and where Tru . . .
										

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