ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Dr. Mark Akenside
John Scott of Amwell
, "Ode XXVII. After Reading Akenside's Poems" Poetical Works (1782) 241-44.
Dr. Mark Akenside:
1744: Thomas Gray
1756: Rev. John Dyer
1756: Rev. Joseph Warton
1757: Horace Walpole
1758: John Scott of Amwell
1761: William Shenstone
1772: Samuel Johnson
1772: George Hardinge
1773: Rev. William Hayward Roberts
1777: Rev. John Brand
1782: John Scott of Amwell
1785: H. S.
1787: Sir John Hawkins
1788: Frances Burney
1794: Robert Alves
1794: Anna Laetitia Barbauld
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1798: Michael Wodhull
1800: Dr. Nathan Drake
1802: George Dyer
1805: Charles Brockden Brown
1806: Dr. John Aikin
1807: Robert Southey
1812: John Nichols
1814: Capel Lofft
1814: George Dyer
1824: William Hazlitt
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1826: Richard Ryan
1830: Rev. George Barrell Cheever
1833: Thomas Babington Macaulay
1845: Peter Cunningham
1880: Edward Dowden
1882: Epes Sargent
1910: Ralph Straus
John Scott of Amwell:
1758: Dr. Mark Akenside
1766: Rev. John Langhorne
1766: William Shenstone
1770 ca.: Joseph Cockfield
1777: Thomas Chatterton
1778: James Beattie
1782: Dr. Mark Akenside
1782: Sir Richard Blackmore
1782: Thomas Chatterton
1782: William Collins
1782: Samuel Johnson
1782: Sir William Jones
1783: Rev. George Crabbe
1783: William Hayley
1783: Rev. Samuel Hoole
1783: Rev. Robert Potter
To Fancy's view what visions rise,
Remote amid yon azure skies!
What Goddess-form descends in air?
The Grecian Muse, severely fair!
What sage is he, to whom she deigns
Her lyre of elevated strains?
The Bard of Tyne — his master hand
Awakes new music o'er the land;
And much his voice of right and wrong
Attempts to teach the unheeding throng.
What mean those chrystal rocks serene,
Those laureate groves for ever green,
Those Parian domes? — Sublime retreats,
Of Freedom's sons the happy seats!—
There dwell the Few who dared disdain
The lust of power and lust of gain;
The Patriot names of old renown'd,
And those in later ages found;
The Athenian, Spartan, Roman boast,
The pride of Britain's sea-girt coast!
But, oh! what darkness intervenes!
But, oh! beneath, what different scenes!
What Matron she, to grief resign'd,
Beside that ruin'd arch reclin'd?
Her sons, who once so well could wield
The warrior spear, the warrior shield,
A turban'd Ruffian's scourge constrains
To toil on desolated plains!—
And She who leans that column nigh,
Where trampled arms and eagles lie;
Whose veil essays her blush to hide,
Who checks the tear that hastes to glide?
A mitred Priest's oppressive sway
She sees her drooping race obey:
Their vines unprun'd, their fields untill'd,
Their streets with want and misery fill'd.
And who is She, the Martial Maid
Along that cliff so careless laid,
Whose brow such laugh unmeaning wears,
Whose eye such insolence declares,
Whose tongue descants, with scorn so vain,
On slaves of Ebro or of Seine?
What griesley Churl, what Harlot bold,
Behind her, chains enormous hold?
Tho' Virtue's warning voice be near,
Alas, she will not, will not hear!
And now she sinks in sleep profound,
And now they bind her to the ground.
O what is He, his ghastly form,
So half obscur'd in cloud and storm,
Swift striding on? — beneath his strides
Proud Empires firmest base subsides;
Behind him dreary wastes remain,
Oblivion dark chaotic reign!