Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mirah now.
Oh would'st thou sing what heroes Windsor bore,
What kings first breathed upon her winding shore,
Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains
In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!
With Edward's i acts adorn the shining page,
Stretch his long triumphs down through every age,
Draw monarchs chain'd, and Crecy's glorious field,
The lilies blazing on the regal shield :
Then, from her roofs when Verrio's 3 colours fall,
And leave inanimate the naked wall,
Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear,
And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal flourish round his urn.
Here o'er the Martyr-King the marble weeps,
And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward'sleeps:
Whom not the extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium" to the northern main,
The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest,
And blended lie the oppressor and the opprest!
Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known,
(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone)
Oh fact accurst! what tears has Albion shed,
Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!
She saw her sons with purple death expire,
Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of intestine wars,
Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.
At length great ANNA Said-"Let discord cease!"
She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace!
In that blest moment, from his oozy bed
Old father Thames advanced his reverend head ;
His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream
His shining horns diffused a golden gleam;
Graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His swelling waters, and alternate tides;
The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd,
And on her banks Augusta rose in gold.
h The Mira of Granville was the Countess of Newburgh.
Edward III. was born here.
j Verrio, an artist much employed in painting ceilings and staircases. * Henry VI.
m Belerium, that part of Cornwall called the Land's End, which took its name from Bellerus, a Cornish giant.
Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
Who swell with tributary urns his flood,
First the famed authors of his ancient name,
The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame :
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd;
The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd ;
Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears ;
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears;
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood.
High in the midst, upon his urn reclined
(His sea-green mantle waving with the wind)
The god appear'd; he turned his azure eyes
Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise;
Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar,
And the hushed waves glide softly to the shore.
"Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days,
That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise!
Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold,
Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,
From heaven itself though sevenfold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;
These now no more shall be the Muse's themes,
Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train;
Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.
No more my sons shall dye with British blood
Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood:
Safe on my shore each unmolested swain
Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;
The shady empire shall retain no trace
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase;
The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold the ascending villas on my side
Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide;
Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase,
And temples" rise, the beauteous works of peace.
" The fifty new churches.
I see, I see, where two fair cities bend
Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend!
There mighty nations shall inquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;
There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen
Once more to bend before a BRITISH QUEEN.
Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into thy floods,
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display,
To the bright regions of the rising day;
Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole ;
Or under southern skies exalt their sails,
Led by new stars and borne by spicy gales!
For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.
The time shall come, when free as seas or wind
Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind;
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And seas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!
Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves;
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell;
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition, shall attend her there;
There purple Vengeance, bathed in gore, retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires;
There hated Envy her own snakes shall feel,
And Persecution mourn her broken wheel;
• A wish that London may be made a free port.
There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays P
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
The thoughts of gods let GRANVILLE's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.
My humble muse, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forests and the flowery plains,
Where Peace, descending, bids her olive spring,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Even I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise;
Enough for me, that to the listening swains
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.
ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY,
AND OTHER PIECES FOR MUSIC q
DESCEND, ye Nine! descend and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each silent string,
And sweep the sounding lyre!
In a sadly-pleasing strain
Let the warbling lute complain :
Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around
The shrill echoes rebound;
While, in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
Hark! the numbers soft and clear
Gently steal upon the ear;
P Quo, Musa, tendis? desine pervicax
Referre sermones Deorum, et
Magna modis tenuare parvis."-HOR.
This Ode was set to music in 1730, by Dr. Greene, as an exercise for his Doctor's degree at Cambridge.
Now louder, and yet louder rise,
And fill with spreading sounds the skies : Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; Till, by degrees, remote and small, The strains decay,
And melt away,
In a dying, dying fall.
By music, minds an equal temper know,
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus rouses from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, Listening Envy drops her snakes; Intestine war no more our passions wage, And giddy factions hear away their rage.
But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial music every bosom warms!
So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,
High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,
While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the sound,
Inflamed with glory's charms;
Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
And half unsheathed the shining blade :
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms to arms! to arms!
But when, through all the infernal bounds
Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,
Love, strong as death, the poet led
To the pale nations of the dead,
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