Maxioms by Mark Akenside
The man forget not, though in rags he lies, and know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies, and know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
Away! Away! Tempt me no more insidious love.
Away! Away! Tempt me no more insidious love.
At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths read more
At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.
This was Shakespeare's form; who walked in every path of human life, felt every passion; and to all mankind doth read more
This was Shakespeare's form; who walked in every path of human life, felt every passion; and to all mankind doth now, will ever, that experience yield which his own genius only could acquire.
