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That on select occafion rare,
A troop of Gods assembled there :
The Naiads water'd well the ground,
And Flora twin'd a wood-bine round:
The tree fprung fait in hallow'd earth,
Co-æval with th' illustrious birth.
Thus let my feet unwearied ftray;
Nor satisfied with one furvey,
When morn returns with doubtful light,
And Phebe pales her lamp of night,
Still let me wander forth anew,
And print my footsteps on the dew,
What time the fwain with ruddy cheek
Prepares to yoke his oxen meek,
And early dreft in neat array
The milk-maid chanting fhrill her lay,
Comes abroad with milking pail ;
And the sound of distant flail
Gives the ear a rough good-morrow,
And the lark from out his furrow
Soars upright on matin wings,
And at the gate of heaven fings.
But when the fun with fervid ray
Drives upwards to his noon of day,
And couching oxen lay them down
Beneath the beechen umbrage brown;
Then let me wander in the hall,
Round whose antique-visag'd wall
Hangs the armour Britons worė,
Rudely caft in days of yore.
Yon sword some heroe's arm might wield,
Red in the ranks of Chalgrave's field,
Where ever-glorious Hampden bled,
And Freedom tears of sorrow fhed. :
Or in the gallery let me wałk, *-!
Where living pictures seem to talk,
Where Beauty smiles serenely fair,
And Courage frowns with martial air
Tho' whiskers quaint the face disguise,
And habits odd to modern eyes.
Behold what kings in Britain reign’d,
Plantagenets with blood' diftain'd,
And valiant Tudor's haughty race,
And Stuarts, England's worst disgrace.
The Norman first, with cruel frown,
Proud of his new-usurped crown,
Begins the lift ; and many more,
Stern heroes form'd of roughest ore.
See victor Henry there advance,
Ev’n in his look he conquers France ;
And murd'rer Richard, juftly slain
By Richmond's steel on Bosworth plain;
See the tyrant of his wives,
Prodigal of faireft lives,
And laureat Edward nurs'd in arts,
Minerva school'd his kingly parts:
But ah! the melancholy Jane,
A soul too tender for a queen!
She finks beneath imperial fway,
The dear-bought scepter of a day!
And must the mount the scaffold drear?
Hard-hearted Mary, learn to spare !
Eliza next falutes the eye ;
Exalt the song to Liberty,
The Muse repeats the sacred name,
Eliza fills the voice of fame.
From thence a baser age began,
The royal ore polluted ran,
Till foreign Naffau's valiant hand
Chac'd holy tyrants from the land :
Downward from hence descend apace
To Brunswick's high, illustrious race ;
And see the canvas speaks them brave,
An injur'd nation born to fave,
Active in Freedom's righteous cause,
And conscious of a just applause.
But chiefly pleas'd, the curious eye,
With nice discernment loves to try
The labour'd wonders, passing thought,
Which warm Italian pencils wrought;
Fables of love, and stories old,
By Greek or Latian poets told;
How Jove committed many a rape,
Acteon lost his shape;
Or what celeftial pen-men writ,
Or what the painter's genuine wit
From Fancy's store-house could devise ;
Where Raphael claims the highest prize.
Madonas here decline the head,
With fond maternal pleasure fed,
Or lift their lucid eyes above,
Where more is seen than holy love.
There temples stand display'd within,
And pillars in long order seen,
And roofs rush forward to the fight,
And lamps affect a living light.
Or landscapes tire the trav'ling eye,
The clouds in azure volumes fly,
The diftant trees diftinguish'd rise,
And hills look little in the skies.
When day declines, and ev'ning cool
Begins her gentle, filent rule,
Again, as Fancy points the way,
Benignant leader, let me stray :
And wilt thou, Genius, bring along
(So fhall my Muse exalt her song)
The Lord who rules this ample scene,
His Confort too with gracious mien,
Her little offspring prattling round,
While Echo lifps their infant found.
And let Good-nature, born to please,
Wait on our steps, and graceful Ease ;
Nor Mirth be wanting as we walk,
Nor Wit to season fober talk ;
Let gay Description too attend,
And Fable told with moral end,
And Satire quick that comes by stealth,
And flowing Laughter, friend to Health.
Meanwhile Attention loves to mark
The deer that crop the shaven park,
The steep-brow'd hill, or forest wild,
The floping lawns, and zephyrs mild,
The clouds that blush with ev’ning red,
Or meads with filver fountains fed,
The fragrance of the new mown hay,
And black-bird chanting on the spray ;
The calm farewel of parting light,
And Ev’ning sad'ning into Night.
Nor wearied yet my roving feet,
Tho' Night comes on amain, retreat ;
But still abroad I walk unseen
Along the star-enlighten'd green ;
Superior joys my soul invite,
Lift, lift to heav'n the dazzled fight.
Lo, where the moon enthron’d on high,
Sits steady empress of the sky,
Enticing nations to revere,
And proudly vain of pagan fear ;
Or where thro'clouds she travels faft,
And seems on journey bent in haste,