FastSaying
At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew, Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers To Arno's myrtle border.
Mark Akenside
Rivers
Related Quotes
And the veil Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times, TO hid the feeling heart?
— Mark Akenside
Hypocrisy
The green retreats Of Academus.
— Mark Akenside
Learning
The man forget not, though in rags he lies, and know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
— Mark Akenside
Crown
Disguise
Forget
Such and so various are the tastes of men.
— Mark Akenside
Miscellaneous
Away! Away! Tempt me no more insidious love.
— Mark Akenside
Miscellaneous
