But (as a child, whose inexperienc'd age
Nor evil purpose fears, nor knows) enjoys
Night's sweet refreshment, humid sleep sincere.
When Chanticleer, with clarion shrill, recalls
The tardy day, he to his labours hies
Gladsome, intent on somewhat that may ease
Unhealthy mortals, and with curious search
Examines all the properties of herbs,
Fossils, and minerals, that th' embowell'd Earth
Displays, if by his industry he can

Benefit human race: or else his thoughts
Are exercis'd with speculations deep

Of good, and just, and meet, and th' wholesome rules
Of temperance, and aught that may improve
The moral life; not sedulous to rail,

Nor with envenom'd tongue to blast the fame
Of harmless men, or secret whispers spread
'Mong faithful friends, to breed distrust and hate.
Studious of virtue, he no life observes,
Except his own; his own employs his cares,
Large subject! that he labours to refine
Daily, nor of his little stock denies
Fit alms to lazers, merciful and meek.

Thus sacred Virgil liv'd from courtly vice,
And bates of pompous Rome secure; at court,
Still thoughtful of the rural honest life,
And how t' improve his grounds, and how himself:
Best poet! fit exemplar for the tribe
Of Phoebus, nor less fit Mæonides,
Poor eyeless pilgrim! and, if after these,
If after these another I may name,
Thus tender Spenser liv'd, with mean repast
Content, depress'd by penury, and pin'd
In foreign realm; yet not debas'd his verse
By Fortune's frowns. And had that other bard,
Oh, had but he, that first ennobled song
With holy rapture, like his Abdiel been;
'Mong many faithless, strictly faithful found;
Unpity'd, he should not have wail'd his orbs,
That roll'd in vain to find the piercing ray,
And found no dawn, by dim suffusion veil'd!
But he-however, let the Muse abstain,

Nor blast his fame, from whom she learnt to sing
In much inferior strains, groveling beneath
Th' Olympian hill, on plains, and vales intent,
Mean follower. There let her rest a while,
Pleas'd with the fragrant walks, and cool retreat.

BOOK II.

O HARCOURT, whom th' ingenuous love of arts
Has carry'd from thy native soil, beyond
Th' eternal Alpine snows, and now detains
In Italy's waste realms, how long must we
Lament thy absence? whilst in sweet sojourn
Thou view'st the relics of old Rome; or, what
Unrivall'd authors by their presence made
For ever venerable, rural seats,
Tibur, and Tusculum, or Virgil's urn,
Green with immortal bays, which haply thou,
Respecting his great name, dost now approach
With bended knee, and strow with purple flowers;
Unmindful of thy friends, that ill can brook
This long delay. At length, dear youth, return,
Of wit and judgment ripe in blooming years,
And Britain's isle with Latian knowledge grace.
Return, and let thy father's worth excite

• Milton.

Thirst of pre-eminence; see! how the cause
Of widows, and of orphans, he asserts
With winning rhetoric, and well-argu'd law!
Mark well his footsteps, and, like him, deserve
Thy prince's favour, and thy country's love.
Meanwhile (although the Massic grape delights,
Pregnant of racy juice, and Formian hills
Temper thy cups, yet) wilt not thou reject
Thy native liquors: lo! for thee my mill
Now grinds choice apples, and the British vats
O'erflow with generous Cider; far remote
Accept this labour, nor despise the Muse,
That, passing lands and seas, on thee attends.
Thus far of trees: the pleasing task remains,
To sing of wines, and Autumn's blest increase.
Th' effects of art are shown, yet what avails
'Gainst Heaven? oft, notwithstanding all thy care
To help thy plants, when the small fruitery seems.
Exempt from ills, an oriental blast
Disastrous flies, soon as the hind fatigued
Unyokes his team; the tender freight, unskill'd
To bear the hot disease, distemper'd pines
In the year's prime; the deadly plague annoys
The wide enclosure: think not vainly now
To treat thy neighbours with mellifluous cups,
Thus disappointed. If the former years
Exhibit no supplies, alas! thou must
With tasteless water wash thy droughty throat.
A thousand accidents the farmer's hopes
Subvert, or check; uncertain all his toil,
Till lusty Autumn's lukewarm days, allay'd
With gentle colds, insensibly confirm
His ripening labours: Autumn, to the fruits
Earth's various lap produces, vigour gives
Equal, intenerating milky grain,

Berries, and sky-dy'd Plumbs, and what in coat
Rough, or soft rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell;
Fat Olives, and Pistacio's fragrant nut,
And the Pine's tasteful apple: Autumn paints
Ausonian hills with Grapes; whilst English plains
Blush with pomaceous harvests, breathing sweets.
O let me now, when the kind early dew
Unlocks th' embosom'd odours, walk among
The well-rang'd files of trees, whose full-ag'd store
Diffuse ambrosial steams, than Myrrh, or Nard,
More grateful, or perfuming flowery Bean!
Soft whispering airs, and the lark's mattin song
Then woo to musing, and becalm the mind
Perplex'd with irksome thoughts. Thrice happy time,
Best portion of the various year, in which
Nature rejoiceth, smiling on her works
Lovely, to full perfection wrought! but ah!
Short are our joys, and neighbouring griefs disturb
Our pleasant hours! inclement Winter dwells
Contiguous; forthwith frosty blasts deface
The blithsome year: trees of their shrivell'd fruits
Are widow'd, dreary storms o'er all prevail !
Now, now's the time, ere hasty suns forbid
To work, disburthen thou thy sapless wood
Of its rich progeny; the turgid fruit
Abounds with mellow liquor: now exhort
Thy hinds to exercise the pointed steel
On the hard rock, and give a wheely form
To the expected grinder: now prepare
Materials for thy mill; a sturdy post
Cylindric, to support the grinder's weight
Excessive; and a flexile sallow, entrench'd,
Rounding, capacious of the juicy hord.
Nor must thou not be mindful of thy press,
Long ere the vintage; but with timely care

Shave the goat's shaggy beard, lest thou too late
In vain should'st seek a strainer to dispart
The husky, terrene dregs, from purer Must.
Be cautious next a proper steed to find,
Whose prime is past; the vigorous horse disdains
Such servile labours, or, if forc'd, forgets
His past achievements, and victorious palms.
Blind Bayard rather, worn with work, and years,
Shall roll th' unwieldy stone; with sober pace
He'll tread the circling path till dewy eve,
From early day-spring, pleas'd to find his age
Declining not unuseful to bis lord.

Some, when the press, by utmost vigour screw'd,
Has drain'd the pulpous mass, regale their swine
With the dry refuse; thou, more wise, shall steep
Thy husks in water, and again employ
The ponderous engine. Water will imbibe
The small remains of spirit, and acquire
A vinous flavour; this the peasants blithe
Will quaff, and whistle, as thy tinkling team
They drive, and sing of Fusca's radiant eyes,
Pleas'd with the medley draught. Nor shalt thou now
Reject the apple-cheese, though quite exhaust;
Even now 'twill cherish, and improve the roots
Of sickly plants; new vigour hence convey'd
Will yield an harvest of unusual growth.
Such profit springs from husks discreetly us'd!
The tender apples, from their parents rent
By stormy shocks, must not neglected lie,
The prey of worms: a frugal man I knew,
Rich in one barren acre, which, subdued
By endless culture, with sufficient Must
His casks replenish'd yearly: he no more
Desir'd, nor wanted; diligent to learn
The various seasons, and by skill repel
Invading pests, successful in his cares,
Till the damp Libyan wind, with tempests arm'd
Outrageous, bluster'd horrible amidst

His Cider-grove: o'erturn'd by furious blasts,
The sightly ranks fall prostrate, and around
Their fruitage scatter'd, from the genial boughs
Stript immature; yet did he not repine,
Nor curse his stars; but prudent, his fallen heaps
Collecting, cherish'd with the tepid wreaths
Of tedded grass, and the Sun's mellowing beams
Rivall'd with artful heats, and thence procur'd
A costly liquor, by improving time,
Equal'd with what the happiest vintage bears.

But this I warn thee, and shall always warn,
No heterogeneous mixtures use, as some
With wat'ry turnips have debas'd their wines,
Too frugal; nor let the crude humours dance
In heated brass, steaming with fire intense;
Although Devonia much commends the use
Of strengthening Vulcan: with their native strength
Thy wines sufficient, other aid refuse;
And, when th' allotted orb of time's complete,
Are more commended than the labour'd drinks.

Nor let thy avarice tempt thee to withdraw The priest's appointed share; with cheerful heart The tenth of thy increase bestow, and own Heaven's bounteous goodness, that will sure repay Thy grateful duty: this neglected, fear Signal avengeance, such as overtook A miser, that unjustly once withheld The clergy's due: relying on himself, His fields he tended, with successless care, Early and late, when or unwish'd-for rain Descended, or unseasonable frosts

Curb'd his increasing hopes; or, when around

The clouds dropt fatness, in the middle sky
The dew suspended staid, and left unmoist
His execrable glebe: recording this,
Be just, and wise, and tremble to transgress.
Learn now the promise of the coming year,
To know, that by no flattering signs abus'd,
Thou wisely may'st provide: the various Moon
Prophetic, and attendant stars, explain
Each rising dawn; ere icy crusts surmount
The current stream, the heavenly orbs serene
Twinkle with trembling rays, and Cynthia glows
With light unsully'd: now the fowler, warn'd
By these good omens, with swift early steps
Treads the crimp earth, ranging through fields and
Offensive to the birds; sulphureous death [glades
Checks their mid flight, and heedless while they strain
Their tuneful throats, the towering, heavy lead,
O'ertakes their speed; they leave their little lives
Above the clouds, precipitant to Earth.

The woodcocks' early visit, and abode
Of long continuance in our temperate clime,
Foretell a liberal harvest; he of times
Intelligent, the harsh Hyperborean ice
Shuns for our equal winters; when our suns
Cleave the chill'd soil, he backward wings his way
To Scandinavian frozen summers, meet
For his numb'd blood. But nothing profits more
Than frequent snows: O, may'st thou often see
Thy furrows whiten'd by the woolly rain
Nutritious! secret nitre lurks within
The porous wet, quickening the languid glebe.
Sometimes thou shalt with fervent vows implore
A moderate wind; the orchat loves to wave
With winter winds, before the gems exert
Their feeble heads; the loosen'd roots then drink
Large increment, earnest of happy years.

Nor will it nothing profit to observe The monthly stars, their powerful influence O'er planted fields, what vegetables reign Under each sign. On our account has Jove Indulgent, to all moons some succulent plant Allotted, that poor helpless man might slack His present thirst, and matter find for toil. Now will the Corinths, now the Rasps, supply Delicious draughts; the Quinces now, or Plumbs, Or Cherries, or the fair Thisbeian fruit

Are prest to wines; the Britons squeeze the works Of sedulous bees, and mixing odorous herbs Prepare balsamic cups, to wheezing lungs Medicinal, and short-breath'd, ancient sires.

But, if thou 'rt indefatigably bent

To toil, and omnifarious drinks would'st brew;
Besides the orchat, every hedge and bush
Affords assistance; ev'n afflictive Birch,
Curs'd by unletter'd, idle youth, distils
A limpid current from her wounded bark,
Profuse of nursing sap. When solar beams
Parch thirsty human veins, the damask'd meads,
Unforc'd, display ten thousand painted flowers
Useful in potables. Thy little sons
Permit to range the pastures; gladly they
Will mow the Cowslip-posies, faintly sweet,
From whence thou artificial wines shalt drain
Of icy taste, that, in mid fervours, best
Slack craving thirst, and mitigate the day.
Happy Jerne', whose most wholesome air
Poisons envenom'd spiders, and forbids
The baleful toad, and viper, from her sbore!

1 Ireland.

More happy in her balmy draughts, enrich'd
With miscellaneous spices, and the root,
(For thirst-abating sweetness prais'd) which wide
Extend her fame, and to each drooping heart
Present redress, and lively health convey.

See, how the Belgæ, sedulous and stout,
With bowls of fattening Mum, or blissful cups
Of kernel-relish'd fluids, the fair star
Of early Phosphorus salute, at noon
Jocund with frequent-rising fumes! by use
Instructed, thus to quell their native phlegm
Prevailing, and engender wayward mirth,

What need to treat of distant climes, remov'd
Far from the sloping journey of the year,
Beyond Petsora, and Islandic coasts?
Where ever-during snows, perpetual shades
Of darkness, would congeal their livid blood,
Did not the Arctic tract spontaneous yield
A cheering purple berry, big with wine,
Intensely fervent, which each hour they crave,
Spread round a flaming pile of pines, and oft
They interlard their native drinks with choice
Of strongest Brandy, yet scarce with these aids
Enabled to prevent the sudden rot
Of freezing nose, and quick-decaying feet.
Nor less the sable borderers of Nile,
Nor they who Taprobane manure, nor they,
Whom sunny Bornio bears, are stor'd with streams
Egregious, Rum, and Rice's spirit extract.
For here, expos'd to perpendicular rays,
In vain they covet shades, and Thrascia's gales,
Pining with equinoctial heat, unless
The cordial glass perpetual motion keep,
Quick circuiting; nor dare they close their eyes,
Void of a bulky charger near their lips,
With which, in often interrupted sleep,
Their frying blood compels to irrigate
Their dry-furr'd tongues, else minutely to death
Obnoxious, dismal death, th' effect of drought!
More happy they, born in Columbus' world,
Carybbes, and they, whom the Cotton plant
With downy-sprouting vests arrays! their woods
Bow with prodigious nuts, that give at once
Celestial food, and nectar; then, at hand
The Lemon, uncorrupt with voyage long,
To vinous spirits added (heavenly drink!)
They with pneumatic engine ceaseless draw,
Intent on laughter; a continual tide
Flows from th' exhilarating fount. As, when
Against a secret cliff, with sudden shock
A ship is dash'd, and leaking drinks the sea,
'Th' astonish'd mariners aye ply the pump,
Nor stay, nor rest, till the wide breach is clos'd:
So they (but cheerful) unfatigued, still move
The draining sucker, then alone concern'd
When the dry bowl forbids their pleasing work.
But if to hoarding thou art bent, thy hopes
Are frustrate, should'st thou think thy pipes will flow
With early limpid wine. The hoarded store,
And the harsh draught, must twice endure the Sun's
Kind strengthening heat, twice Winter's purging cold.
There are, that a compounded fluid drain
From different mixtures, Woodcock, Pippin, Moyle,
Rough Eliot, sweet Permain: the blended streams
(Each mutually correcting each) create
A pleasurable medley, of what taste
Hardly distinguish'd; as the showery arch,
With listed colours gay, ore, azure, gules,
Delights and puzzles the beholder's eye,

That views the wat'ry brede, with thousand shows

Of painture vary'd, yet 's unskill'd to tell Or where one colour rises, or one faints.

Some Ciders have by art, or age, unlearn'd
Their genuine relish, and of sundry vines
Assum'd the flavour; one sort counterfeits
The Spanish product; this, to Gauls has seem'd
The sparkling Nectar of Champaigne; with that,
A German oft has swill'd his throat, and sworn,
Deluded, that imperial Rhine bestow'd

The generous rummer, whilst the owner, pleas'd,
Laughs inly at his guests, thus entertain'd
With foreign vintage from his cider cask.

Soon as thy liquor from the narrow cells
Of close-prest husks is freed, thou must refrain
Thy thirsty soul; let none persuade to broach
Thy thick, unwholesome, undigested cades:
The hoary frosts, and northern blasts, take care
Thy muddy beverage to serene, and drive
Precipitant the baser, ropy lees.

And now thy wine's transpicuous, purg'd from all
Its earthy gross, yet let it feed a while
On the fat refuse, lest, too soon disjoin'd,
From sprightly, it to sharp or vapid change.
When to convenient vigour it attains,
Suffice it to provide a brazen tube
Inflext; self-taught, and voluntary, flies
The defecated liquor, through the vent
Ascending, then by downward tract convey'd,
Spouts into subject vessels, lovely clear.
As when a noontide sun, with summer beams,
Darts through a cloud, her wat'ry skirts are edg'd
With lucid amber, or uncrossy gold:
So, and so richly, the purg'd liquid shines.

Now also, when the colds abate, nor yet
Full summer shines, a dubious season, close
In glass thy purer streams, and let them gain,
From due confinement, spirit, and flavour new.

For this intent, the subtle chymist feeds
Perpetual flames, whose unresisted force,
O'er sand, and ashes, and the stubborn flint
Prevailing, turns into a fusil sea,
That in his furnace bubbles sunny-red:
From hence a glowing drop with hollow'd steel
He takes, and by one efficacious breath
Dilates to a surprising cube, or sphere,
Or oval, and fit receptacles forms
For every liquid, with his plastic lungs,
To human life subservient; by his means
Ciders in metal frail improve: the Moyle,
And tasteful Pippin, in a moon's short year,
Acquire complete perfection: now they smoke
Transparent, sparkling in each drop, delight
Of curious palate, by fair virgins crav'd.
But harsher fluids different lengths of time
Expect: thy flask will slowly mitigate
The Eliot's roughness. Stirom, firmest fruit,
Embottled (long as Priæmian Troy
Withstood the Greeks) endures, ere justly mild.
Soften'd by age, it youthful vigour gains,
Fallacious drink! ye honest men, beware,
Nor trust its smoothness; the third circling glass
Suffices virtue: but may hypocrites,
(That slyly speak one thing, another think,
Hateful as Hell) pleas'd with the relish weak,
Drink on unwarn'd, till by enchanting cups
Infatuate, they their wily thoughts disclose,
And through intemperance grow a while sincere.
The fariner's toil is done; his cades mature
Now call for vent; his lands exhaust permit
T' indulge awhile. Now solemn rites he pays

RE

To Bacchus, author of heart-cheering mirth.
His honest friends, at thirsty hour of dusk,
Come uninvited; he with bounteous hand
Imparts his smoking vintage, sweet reward
Of his own industry; the well-fraught bowl
Circles incessant, whilst the humble cell
With quavering laugh and rural jests resounds.
Ease, and content, and undissembled love,
Shine in each face; the thoughts of labour past
Increase their joy: As, from retentive cage
When sullen Philomel escapes, her notes
She varies, and of past imprisonment
Sweetly complains; her liberty retriev'd
Cheers her sad soul, improves her pleasing song.
Gladsome they quaff, yet not exceed the bounds
Of healthy temperance, nor encroach on night,
Season of rest, but well bedew'd repair
Each to his home, with unsupplanted feet.
Ere Heaven's emblazon'd by the rosy dawn,
Domestic cares awake them; brisk they rise,
Refresh'd, and lively with the joys that flow
From amicable talk, and moderate cups
Sweetly interchang'd. The pining lover finds
Present redress, and long oblivion drinks
Of coy Lucinda. Give the debtor wine;

His joys are short, and few; yet when he drinks,
His dread retires, the flowing glasses add
Courage and mirth: magnificent in thought,
Imaginary riches he enjoys,

And in the jail expatiates unconfin'd.
For

can the poet Bacchus' praise indite,
Debarr'd his grape: the Muses still require
Humid regalement, nor will aught avail
Imploring Phoebus, with unmoisten'd lips.
Thus to the generous bottle all incline,

By parching thirst allur'd: with vehement suns
When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling clods,
How pleasant is 't, beneath the twisted arch
Of a retreating bower, in mid-day's reign
To ply the sweet carouse, remote from noise,
Secur'd of feverish heats! When th' aged year
Inclines, and Boreas' spirit blusters frore,
Beware th' inclement Heavens; now let thy hearth
Crackle with juiceless boughs; thy lingering blood
Now instigate with th' apple's powerful streams.
Perpetual showers, and stormy gusts confine
The willing ploughman, and December warns
To annual jollities; now sportive youth
Carol incondite rhymes, with suiting notes,
And quaver unharmonious; sturdy swains
In clean array for rustic dance prepare,
Mixt with the buxom damsels; hand in hand
They frisk and bound, and various mazes weave,
Shaking their brawny limbs, with uncouth mien,
Transported, and sometimes an oblique leer
Dart on their loves, sometimes an hasty kiss
Steal from unwary lasses; they with scorn,
And neck reclin'd, resent the ravish'd bliss.
Meanwhile blind British bards with volant touch
Traverse loquacious strings, whose solemn notes
Provoke to harmless revels; these among,
A subtle artist stands, with wondrous bag
That bears imprison'd winds (of gentler sort
Than those, which erst Laertes' son enclos'd.)
Peaceful they sleep; but let the tuneful squeeze
Of labouring elbow rouze them, out they fly
Melodious, and with sprightly accents charm.
'Midst these desports, forget they not to drench
Themselves with bellying goblets; nor, when Spring
Returns, can they refuse to usher in

The fresh-born year with loud acclaim, and store
Of jovial draughts, now, when the sappy boughs
Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments
Of future harvest. When the Gnossian crown
Leads on expected autumn, and the trees
Discharge their mellow burthens, let them thank
Boon Nature, that thus annually supplies
Their vaults, and with her former liquid gifts
Exhilarates their languid minds, within
The golden mean confin'd: beyond there's nought
of health, or pleasure. Therefore, when thy heart
Dilates with fervent joys, and eager soul
Prompts to pursue the sparkling glass, be sure
'Tis time to shun it; if thou wilt prolong
Dire compotation, forthwith Reason quits
Her empire to confusion, and misrule,

And vain debates; then twenty tongues at once
Conspire in senseless jargon, nought is heard
But din, and various clamour, and mad rant:
Distrust, and jealousy to these succeed,
And anger-kindling taunt, the certain bane
Of well-knit fellowship. Now horrid frays
Commence, the brimming glasses now are hurl'd
With dire intent; bottles with bottles clash
In rude encounter, round their temples fly
The sharp-edg'd fragments, down their batter'd
cheeks

Mix'd gore and cider flow. What shall we say
Of rash Elpenor, who in evil hour

3

Dry'd an immeasurable bowl, and thought
T'exhale his surfeit by irriguous sleep,
Imprudent? him Death's iron-sleep opprest,
Descending careless from his couch; the fall
Luxt his neck-joint, and spinal marrow bruis'd.
Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend
The turbulent mirth of wine; nor all the kinds
Of maladies, that lead to Death's grim cave,
Wrought by intemperance, joint-racking gout,
Intestine stone, and pining atrophy,
Chill even when the Sun with July heats
Fries the scorch'd soil, and dropsy all a-float,
Yet craving liquids: nor the Centaurs tale
Be here repeated; how, with lust and wine
Inflam'd, they fought, and split their drunken souls
At feasting hour.Ye heavenly Powers, that guard
The British isles, such dire events remove
Far from fair Albion, nor let civil broils
Ferment from social cups: may we, remote
From the hoarse, brazen sound of war, enjoy
Our humid products, and with seemly draughts
Enkindle mirth, and hospitable love.
Too oft, alas! has mutual hatred drench'd
Our swords in native blood; too oft has pride,
And hellish discord, and insatiate thirst
Of others rights, our quiet discompos'd.
Have we forgot, how fell Destruction rag'd
Wide-spreading, when by Eris' torch incens'd
Our fathers warr'd? what heroes, signaliz'd
For loyalty and prowess, met their fate
Untimely, undeserv'd! how Bertie fell,
Compton, and Granville, dauntless sons of Mars,
Fit themes of endless grief, but that we view
Their virtues yet surviving in their race!
Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong rout
Defy'd their prince to arms, nor made account
Of faith or duty, or allegiance sworn?
Apostate, atheist rebels! bent to ill,
With seeming sanctity, and cover'd fraud,
Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t' oppose
Omnipotence; alike their crime, th' event

Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height
Of barbarous malice, and insulting pride,
Abstain'd not from imperial blood. O fact
Unparallel'd! O Charles, O best of kings!
What stars their black disastrous influence shed
On thy nativity, that thou should'st fall
Thus, by inglorious hands, in this thy realm,
Supreme and innocent, adjudg'd to death
By those thy mercy only would have sav'd!
Yet was the Cider-land unstain'd with guilt;
The Cider-land obsequious still to thrones,
Abhorr'd such base disloyal deeds, and all
Her pruning-hooks extended into swords,
Undaunted, to assert the trampled rights
Of monarchy; but, ah! successless she,
However faithful! then was no regard

Of right or wrong. And this once happy land,
By homebred fury rent, long groan'd beneath
Tyrannic sway, till fair revolving years
Our exil'd kings and liberty restor❜d.
Now we exult, by mighty Anna's care
Secure at home, while she to foreign realms
Sends forth her dreadful legions, and restrains
The rage of kings: here, nobly she supports
Justice oppress'd; here, her victorious arms
Quell the ambitious: from her hand alone
All Europe fears revenge, or hopes redress.
Rejoice, O Albion! sever'd from the world
By Nature's wise indulgence, indigent
Of nothing from without; in one supreme
Entirely blest; and from beginning time
Design'd thus happy; but the fond desire
Of rule and grandeur multiply'd a race
Of kings, and numerous sceptres introduc'd,
Destructive of the public weal. For now
Each potentate, as wary fear, or strength,
Or emulation urg'd, his neighbour's bounds
Invades, and ampler territory seeks
With ruinous assault; on every plain
Host cop'd with host, dire was the din of war,
And ceaseless, or short truce haply procur'd
By havoc, and dismay, till jealousy

Rais'd new combustion. Thus was peace in vain
Sought for by martial deeds, and conflict stern:
Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine
A dismal half-year night, the orient beam
Of Phoebus' lamp) arose, and into one
Cemented all the long-contending powers,
Pacific monarch; then her lovely head
Concord rear'd high, and all around diffus'd
The spirit of love. At ease, the bards new strung
Their silent harps, and taught the woods and vales,
In uncouth rhymes, to echo Edgar's name.
Then gladness smil'd in every eye; the years
Ran smoothly on, productive of a line
Of wise, beroic kings, that by just laws
Establish'd happiness at home, or crush'd
Insulting enemies in furthest climes.

See lion-hearted Richard, with his force
Drawn from the North, to Jewry's hallow'd plains!
Piously valiant (like a torrent swell'd
With wintry tempests, that disdains all mounds,
Breaking a way impetuous, and involves
Within its sweep, trees, houses, men) he press'd
Amidst the thickest battle, and o'erthrew
Whate'er withstood his zealous rage: no pause,
No stay of slaughter, found his vigorous arm,
But th' unbelieving squadrons turn'd to flight,
Smote in the rear, and with dishonest wounds
Mangled behind, The Soldan, as he fled,

Oft call'd on Alla, gnashing with despite,
And shame, and murmur'd many an empty curse.
Behold third Edward's streamers blazing high
On Gallia's hostile ground! his right withheld,
Awakens vengeance. O imprudent Gauls,
Relying on false hopes, thus to incense
The warlike English! One important day
Shall teach you meaner thoughts. Eager of fight,
Fierce Brutus' offspring to the adverse front
Advance resistless, and their deep array
With furious inroad pierce: the mighty force
Of Edward twice o'erturn'd their desperate king;
Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid shock:
The third time, with his wide-extended wings,
He fugitive declin'd superior strength,
Discomfited; pursued, in the sad chase
Ten thousand ignominious fall; with blood
The vallies float. Great Edward thus aveng'd,
With golden Iris his broad shield emboss'd.
Thrice glorious prince! whom Fame with all her
tongues

For ever shall resound. Yet from his loins
New authors of dissention spring; from him
Two branches, that in hosting long contend
For sov'reign sway; and can such anger dwell
In noblest minds? but little now avail'd
The ties of friendship; every man, as led
By inclination, or vain hope, repair'd
To either camp, and breath'd immortal hate,
And dire revenge. Now horrid Slaughter reigns:
Sons against fathers tilt the fatal lance,
Careless of duty, and their native grounds
Distain with kindred blood; the twanging bows
Send showers of shafts, that on their barbed points
Alternate ruin bear. Here might you see
Barons, and peasants on th' embattled field
Slain, or half-dead, in one huge, ghastly heap
Promiscuously amass'd. With dismal groans,
And ejulation, in the pangs of death

Some call for aid, neglected; some o'erturn'd
In the fierce shock, lie gasping, and expire,
Trampled by fiery coursers: Horrour thus,
And wild Uproar, and Desolation, reign'd
Unrespited. Ah! who at length will end
This long, pernicious fray? what man has Fate
Reserv'd for this great work?-Hail, happy prince
Of Tudor's race, whom in the womb of Time
Cadwallador foresaw! thou, thou art he,
Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial rites
Must close the gates of Janus, and remove
Destructive Discord. Now no more the drum
Provokes to arms, or trumpet's clangour shrill
Affrights the wives, or chills the virgin's blood;
But joy and pleasure open to the view
Uninterrupted! with presaging skill
Thou to thy own unitest Fergus' line

By wise alliance: from thee James descends,
Heaven's chosen favourite, first Britannic king.
To him alone hereditary right

Gave power supreme; yet still some seeds remain'd

Of discontent: two nations under one,
In laws and interest diverse, still pursued
Peculiar ends, on each side resolute
To fly conjunction; neither fear, nor hope,
Nor the sweet prospect of a mutual gain,
Could aught avail, till prudent Anna said,
Let there be union; strait with reverence due
To her command, they willingly unite,
One in affection, laws and government,