That on felect occafion rare,
A troop of Gods affembled 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' illuftrious birth.
Thus let my feet unwearied ftray;
Nor fatisfied 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 found 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 whofe antique-vifag'd wall
Hangs the armour Britons wore,
Rudely caft in days of yore.
Yon fword fome heroe's arm might wield,
Red in the ranks of Chalgrave's field,
Where ever-glorious Hampden bled,
And Freedom tears of forrow fhed.
Or in the gallery let me walk,
Where living pictures feem to talk,
Where Beauty smiles ferenely 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' distain'd,
And valiant Tudor's haughty race,
And Stuarts, England's worst disgrace.
The Norman firft, with cruel frown,
Proud of his new-ufurped 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 flain
By Richmond's fteel on Bosworth plain;
See the tyrant of his wives,
Prodigal of fairest lives,
And laureat Edward nurs'd in arts,
Minerva fchool'd his kingly parts:
But ah! the melancholy Jane,
A foul too tender for a queen!
She finks beneath imperial fway,
The dear-bought fcepter of a day!
And muft fhe mount the fcaffold drear?
Hard-hearted Mary, learn to fpare!
Eliza next falutes the eye;
Exalt the fong to Liberty,
The Muse repeats the facred 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, illuftrious race;
And fee the canvas fpeaks them brave,
An injur'd nation born to fave,
Active in Freedom's righteous caufe,
And confcious of a just applause.
But chiefly pleas'd, the curious eye,
With nice difcernment loves to try
The labour'd wonders, paffing thought,
Which warm Italian pencils wrought;
Fables of love, and ftories old,
By Greek or Latian poets told;
How Jove committed many a rape,
How young Acteon lost his shape;
Or what celeftial pen-men writ,
Or what the painter's genuine wit
From Fancy's ftore-house could devife;
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 feen,
And roofs rufh 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 ftray:
And wilt thou, Genius, bring along
(So fhall my Muse exalt her fong)
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 Eafe;
Nor Mirth be wanting as we walk,
Nor Wit to feafon fober talk;
Let gay Description too attend,
And Fable told with moral end,
And Satire quick that comes by ftealth,
And flowing Laughter, friend to Health.
Meanwhile Attention loves to mark
The deer that crop the fhaven park,
The steep-brow'd hill, or foreft 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 fad'ning into Night.
Nor wearied yet my roving feet,
Tho' Night comes on amain, retreat;
But ftill abroad I walk unseen
Along the ftar-enlighten'd green;
Superior joys my foul invite,
Lift, lift to heav'n the dazzled fight.
Lo, where the moon enthron'd on high,
Sits fteady empress of the sky,
Enticing nations to revere,
And proudly vain of pagan fear;
Or where thro' clouds fhe travels fast, And feems on journey bent in hafte,
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