ODE III. Against SUSPICION. Mark Akenside Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T42068 K027268.000 Akenside, Mark, 1721-1770. Odes on several subjects. London printed for R. Dodsley. And sold by M. Cooper. M.DCC.XLV. 1745 pp. 15-18. 54p.; 4⁰.

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ODE III . Against SUSPICION . O Fly ! 'Tis dire SUSPICION'S mien ; And , meditating plagues unseen , The sorc'ress hither bends : Behold her torch in gall imbrued : Behold — her garments drop with blood Of lovers and of friends . Fly far ! Already in your eyes I see a pale suffusion rise ; And soon thro' every vein , Soon will her secret venom spread , And all your heart and all your head Imbibe the potent stain . Then come the hours of shame and fear ; Then hints of horror seize your ear ; While gleams of lost delight Raise the deep discord of the brain , As light'ning shines along the main Thro' whirlwinds and thro' night . No more can faith or candor move ; But each ingenuous deed of love Which once you would applaud , Now , smiing o'er her dark distress , Malignant fancy longs to dress Like injury and fraud . Farewell to virtue's peaceful times ! for soon you'll stoop to act the crimes You thus can stoop to fear : When vice begins her ugly train With wrongs of such unmanly stain , What horrors form the rear ! 'Tis thus , to work her baleful pow'r , SUSPICION waits the sullen hour Of fretfulness and strife , When care th' infirmer bosom wrings , Or EURUS shakes his gloomy wings To damp the seats of life . But come , forsake the scene unblest , Which first beheld your candid breast , To groundless fears a prey ; Come , where with my prevailing lyre The skies , the streams , the groves conspire To charm your doubts away . Thron'd in the sun's descending car , What Pow'r unseen diffuses far This tenderness of mind ? What Genius smiles on every flood ? What GOD , in whispers from the wood , Bids every heart be kind ? O thou , whate'er thy awful name , Whose breath awak'd th' immortal flame That moves my active veins ; Thou , who by fair affection's ties Hast doubled all my future joys , And half disarm'd my pains ; Let universal CANDOUR still , Clear as yon heav'n-reflefting rill , Preserve my open mind ; Nor THIS , nor THAT man's crooked views , One mean or cruel doubt infuse To injure human kind .