Have in their crimson croffes glow'd;
But, on juft law-givers beftow'd,

These emblems Cecil did invest,

And gleam'd on wife Godolphin's breast.
V.

So Greece, ere arts began to rife,
Fix'd huge Orion in the skies,

And ftern Alcides, fam'd in wars,
Befpangled with a thousand stars;
'Till letter'd Athens round the pole
Made gentler constellations 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 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 fo high,
Or view'd with lefs defiring eye?

Names of Conftellations.

VOL. I.

D

VII. The

VII.

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 slain.
VIII.

Why praise we, prodigal of fame,
The rage that fets the world on flame?
My guiltless Mufe his brow fhall bind
Whofe godlike bounty spares mankind :
For thofe, whom bloody garlands crown,
The brass may breathe, the marble frown;
To him, through every rescu'd land,
Ten thousand living trophies ftand.

KEN

KENSINGTON GARDEN.

By the Same.

Campos, ubi Troja fuit.

VIRG.

'Midft

HERE Kensington high o'er the neighb❜ring lands,
greens and fweets, a regal fabric 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 various dies befpread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,

Where rich brocades and gloffy damasks glow,
And chints, the rival of the show'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 rest, Stands fairest of the fairer kind confefs'd,

Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's caufe deny'd, And charm a people to her Father's fide.

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 isle a name;

A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood,
The scene 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 unlevell'd the gay garden lies:

If generous anguish for another's pains

E'er 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 fad verdure grows,

Was,

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 sweeter in its ancient days,

Far fweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs was crown'd.
Where in the midst those verdant pillars fpring,
Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,

In happier years a crowded street was seen,
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 fprightly fairies play'd
On every hill, and danc'd in every fhade.
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 scoop'd the bofom of the blasted oak;
Or heard, o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill,
The distant murmurs of the falling rill.