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These seats our fires, a hardy kind,
To the fierce fons of war confin'd,
The flower of chivalry, who drew
With finew'd arm the stubborn yew :
Or with heav'd pole-ax clear’d the fielu;
Or who, in justs and tourneys skill'd,
Before their ladies' eyes renown'd,
Threw horse and horseman to the ground.
In after-times, as courts refin'd,
Our patriots in the list were join'd.
Not only Warwick stain’d with blood,
Or Marlborough near the Danube's flood,
Have in their crimson crosses glow'd;
But, on just lawgivers bestow'd,
These emblems Cecil did invest,
And gleam'd on wise Godolphin's breast.
So Greece, ere arts began to rise,
Fix'd huge Orion in the skies,
And stern Alcides, fam'd in wars,
Bespangled with a thousand stars ;
Till letter'd Athens round the pole
Made gentler constellations roll ;
In the blue heavens the Lyre she strung,
And near the Maid the * Balance huny.
* Names of Constellations,
Then, Spencer, mount amid the band,
Where knights and kings promiscuous stand.
What though the hero's Aame repress’d
Burns calmly in thy generous breast !
Yet who more dauntless to oppose
In doubtful days our home-bred foes !
Who rais’d his country's wealth so high,
Or view'd with less defiring tye !
The fage who large of soul surveys
The globe, and all its empires weighs,
Watchful the various climes to guide,
Which seas, and tongues, and faiths divide,
A nobler name in Windsor's shrine
Shall leave, if right the Muse divine,
Than sprung of old, abhorr'd and vain,
From ravag'd realms and myriads Nain.
Why praise we, prodigal of fame,
The rage that sets the world on fiame ?
My guiltless Muse his brow shall bind
Whose godlike bounty spares mankind.
For those, whom bloody garlands crown,
The brass may breathe, the marble frown,
To him, through every rescued land,
Ten thousand living trophies stand.
“-Campos, ubi Troja fuit.” VIRG.
WHERE Kensington high o’er the neighbouring
greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands,
And fees cach spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair
To gravel walks, and unpolluted air.
Here, while the town in damps and darkness-lies,
They breathe in fun-fhine, and see azure skies;
Each walk, with rebes of various dyes bespread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,
Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow,
And chints, the rival of the showery bow.
Here England's daughter, darling of the land,
Sometimes, surrounded with her virgin band,
Gleams through the shades. She, towering o’er the rest,
Stands fairelt of the fairer kind confeít,
Form’d to gain hearts, that Brunswick’s cause deny'd,
And charm a people to her father's side.
Long have these groves to royal guests been known, Nor Naffau first 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 ille a name ; A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood, The Scene of wars, and staind with lovers' blood.
You, who through gazing crowds, your captive throng,
Throw pangs and passions, as you move along,
Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes,
Where all unlevel'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 pleasing dale,
And listen to my melancholy tale.
That hollow space, where now in living rows.
Line above line the yew's sad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion’d cave.
The landskip now so sweet we well may praise :
But far, far sweeter in its antient days,
Far sweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling towers was crown'd.
Where in the midst those verdant pillars spring,
Rose the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,
In happier years a crowded street was seen ;
Nor all those leaves that now the prospect grace,
Could match the numbers of its pygmy race.
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of woe and wonder, I relate.
When Albion rul'd the land, whose lineage came
From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,
Their midnight pranks the prightly fairies play'd
On every hill, and danc'd in
But, foes to sun-fhine, most they took delight
In dells and dales conceal'd from human fight :
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;
Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak;
Or heard, o’ershadow'd by some shelving hill,
The distant murmurs of the falling rill.
They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulg'd their mirth,
And pity'd the huge wretched fons of earth.
Ev'n now, 'tis said, the hinds o’erhear their strain,
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,
mortals startle at the sound Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground.
Amid this garden, then with woods o’ergrown,
Stood the lov'd seat of royal Oberon.
From every region to his palace-gate
and princes of the fairy state,
Who, rank'd in council round the sacred shade,
Their monarch's will and great behests obey’d.
Frorn Thames' fair banks, by lofty towers 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,
Whve’er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd,
Hath fam’d king Pepin and his court survey'd,
May guess, if old by modern things we trace,
The pomp and fplendor of the fairy-race.
By magic fenc’d, by spells encompass’d round,
No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground;
No mortal enter'd, those alone who came
Stol'n from the couch of some terrestrial dame :