Mark Akenside
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.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies, and know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
Than Timolean's arms require, and Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
Such and so various are the tastes of men.
Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, and eagerly pursues imaginary joys.
He with cowslips pale, primrose and purple lychnis decked the green before my threshold, and my shelving walls with honeysuckle covered.
Away! Away! Tempt me no more insidious love.
And the veil, spun from the cobweb fashion of the times, to hid the feeling heart.