Mark Akenside

Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love.

— Mark Akenside

Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys,And eagerly pursues imaginary joys.

— Mark Akenside

O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight paleWaits yet to leave the ocean.

— Mark Akenside

The man forget not, though in rags he lies,And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

— Mark Akenside

Can art, alas! or genius guide the headWhen the prime function of the soul is broke?

— Mark Akenside

Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale.

— Mark Akenside

Man loves knowledge, and the beams of truthThan all of taste his tongue.

— Mark Akenside

Oft the hoursWhile mute attention hung upon his lips.

— Mark Akenside

Ask the faithful youthAnd turns his tears to rapture.

— Mark Akenside

Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'dAmbassadors of heaven!

— Mark Akenside

Adieu, for him,Is all he asks, and all that fate can give!

— Mark Akenside

Such and so various are the tastes of men!

— Mark Akenside

The Providence of heavenTo each allotted state below.

— Mark Akenside

Heaven's all-subduing will,Attempreth every state below.

— Mark Akenside

Than Timoleon's arms require,And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.

— Mark Akenside

Rustic herald of the spring.

— Mark Akenside