I. <br />Not for themselves did human kind <br />Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd <br />On life's wide scene to play: <br />Not Scipio's force, nor Cæsar's skill <br />Can conquer glory's arduous hill, <br />If fortune close the way. <br /> <br />II. <br />Yet still the self-depending soul, <br />Though last and least in fortune's roll, <br />His proper sphere commands; <br />And knows what nature's seal bestow'd, <br />And sees, before the throne of God, <br />The rank in which he stands. <br /> <br />III. <br />Who train'd by laws the future age, <br />Who rescu'd nations from the rage <br />Of partial, factious power, <br />My heart with distant homage views; <br />Content if thou, celestial Muse, <br />Did'st rule my natal hour. <br /> <br />IV. <br />Nor far beneath the hero's feet, <br />Nor from the legislator's seat <br />Stands far remote the bard. <br />Though not with public terrors crown'd, <br />Yet wider shall his rule be found, <br />More lasting his award. <br /> <br />V. <br />Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, <br />And Pompey to the Roman name <br />Gave universal sway: <br />Where are they?—Homer's reverend page <br />Holds empire to the thirtieth age, <br />And tongues and climes obey. <br /> <br />VI. <br />And thus when William's acts divine <br />No longer shall from Bourbon's line <br />Draw one vindictive vow; <br />When Sidney shall with Cato rest, <br />And Russel move the patriot's breast <br />No more than Brutus now; <br /> <br />VII. <br />Yet then shall Shakespeare's powerful art <br />O'er every passion, every heart, <br />Confirm his awful throne: <br />Tyrants shall bow before his laws; <br />And freedom's, glory's, virtue's cause, <br />Their dread assertor own.<br /><br />Mark Akenside<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-vii-on-the-use-of-poetry/
