?Till letter'd Athens round the pole Made gentler conftellations roll,
In the blue heavens the Lyre fhe ftrung,
And near the Maid the Balance hung.
VI.
Then, SPENCER, mount amid the band,
Where knights and kings promifcuous stand.
What though the hero's flame reprefs'd
Burns calmly in thy generous breast;
Yet who more dauntless to oppofe
In doubtful days our home-bred foes?
Who rais'd his country's wealth fo high,
Or view'd with lefs defiring eye?
The fage who large of foul furveys
The globe, and all its empires weighs,
Watchful the various climes to guide,
Which feas, and tongues, and faiths divide,
A nobler name in Windfor's fhrine
Shall leave, if right the Mufe divine,
Than fprung of old, abhorr'd and vain,
From ravag'd realms and myriads flain,
VIII.
Why praise we, prodigal of fame,
The rage that lets the world on flame?
My guiltless Mufe his brow fhall bind-
Whofe godlike bounty fpares mankind:
*Names of Conftellati ens.
For thofe, whom bloody garlands crown,
The brass may breathe, the marble frown;
To him, through every refcu'd land,
Ten thousand living trophies ftand.
WHERE Kenfington high o'er the neighb'ring lands, 'Midft greens and fweets, à regal fabrick stands,
And fees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A fnow of bloffoms, and a wild of flowers,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair-
To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air.
Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies,
They breathe in fun-fhine, and fee azure skies
Each walk, with robes of variou's dies befpread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,
Where rich brocades and gloffy damasks glow,
And chints, the rival of the fhow'ry bow.
Here England's Daughter, darling of the land,
Sometimes, furrounded with her virgin band,
Gleams through the fhades. She, tow'ring o'er the reft,
Stands faireft of the fairer kind confefs'd,
Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's cause deny'd, And charm a people to her father's fide.
Long have these groves to royal guests been known,
Nor Naffau firft prefer'd them to a throne.
Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air;
Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair
Pour'd in his Danes; ere elder Julius came;
Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name ;
A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood,
The fcene of wars, and ftain'd with lovers' blood.
You, who through gazing crowds, your captive throng,
Throw pangs and paffions, as you move along,
Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes,
Where all un-levell'd the gay garden lies:
If generous anguish for another's pains
Ere heav'd your hearts, or shiver'd through your veins,
Look down attentive on the pleafing dale,
And listen to my melancholy tale.
That hollow space, where now in living rows,
Line above line the yew's fad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave;
The landskip now fo fweet we well may praise,
But far, far fweeter in its ancient days,
Far fweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs were crown'd.
Where in the midst thofe verdant pillars spring,
Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,
In happier years a crowded street was feen,
Nor all thofe leaves, that now the profpect grace,
Could match the numbers of its pigmy race..
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of woe and wonder I relate.
When Albion rul'd the land, whofe lineage came
From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,
Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd
On ev'ry hill, and danc'd in every shade.
But, foes to fun-fhine, moft they took delight
In dells and dales conceal'd from human fight:
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;
Or fcoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak ;
Or heard, o'ershadow'd by fome shelving hill,
The distant murmurs of the falling rill.
They, rich in pilfer'd fpoils, indulg'd their mirth,
And pity'd the huge wretched fons of earth.
Even now, 'tis faid, the hinds o'erheard their ftrain,
And strive to view their airy forms in vain ;
They to their cells at man's approach repair,
Like the shy leveret, or the mother hare,
The whilst poor mortals ftartle at the found
Of unfeen footsteps on the haunted ground.
Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown,
Stood the lov'd feat of royal Oberon.
From every region to his palace gate
Came peers and princes of the fairy state,
Who, rank'd in council round the facred fhade,
Their monarch's will and great behefts obey'd.
From Thame's fair banks, by lofty tow'rs adorn'd,
With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd :
Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay,
Shone every knight and every lovely fay.
Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd
Hath fam'd king Pepin and his court furvey'd,
May guess, if old by modern things we trace,
The pomp and fplendor of the fairy race.
By magic fenc'd, by fpell encompass'd round,
No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground;
No mortal enter'd, those alone who came
Stolen from the couch of fome terrestrial damę :
For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed,
And left fome fickly changeling in their stead.
It chanc'd a youth of Albion's royal blood
Was fofter'd here, the wonder of the wood;
Milkah, for wiles above her peers renown'd,
Deep-skill'd in charms and many a myftic found,
As through the regal dome fhe fought for prey,
Obferv'd the infant Albion where he lay
In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride,
And ftole him from the fleeping mother's fide.
Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind
Ah wretched nymph, to future evils blind!
The time fhall come when thou shalt dearly pay
The theft, hard-hearted! of that guilty day:
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