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THE
PLEASURES
OF
IMAGINATION.
Book the Second.
WHen shall the laurel and the vocal string
Resume their honours? When shall we behold
The tuneful tongue, the Promothéan hand
Aspire to ancient praise Alas! how faint,
How slow the dawn of beauty and of truth5
Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night
Which yet involve the nations! Long they groan'd
Beneath the furies of rapacious force;
Oft as the gloomy north, with iron-swarms
Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves,10
Blasted th' Italian shore, and swept the works
Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph
Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd
In
