On A Sermon Against Glory
Come then, tell me, sage divine, Is it an offense to own That our bosoms e'er incline Toward immortal glory's throne? For with me nor pomp, nor pleasure, Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, So can fancy's dream rejoice, So conciliate reason's choice, As one approving word of her impartial voice. If to spurn at noble praise Be the pass-port to thy heaven, Follow thou those gloomy ways; No such law to me was given, Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me Faring like my friends before me; Nor an holier place desire Than Timolean's arms acquire, And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
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"Come then, tell me, sage divine,..."
"On A Sermon Against Glory" is a quintessential example of Mark Akenside's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...