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Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal Aourish round his urn.
Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps,
And, fast beside him, once fear’d Edward tleeps ;
Whom not th extended Albion could contain,

315 From old Belerium to the northern main. The grave unites ; where e'en the


find rest, And blended lie th' opprefsor and th' opprett!

Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known, (Obscure the place, and uninscrib’d the stone.) 320 Oh fact accurs'd! what tears has Albion shed! Heav'ns! what new wounds ! and how her old have She saw her fons with purple death expire, [bled! Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire, A dreadful series of inteftine wars,

325 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 advanc'd his reverend head; 330 His treffes dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream His shining horns diffus'd a golden gleam : Gravid on his urn appear’d the moon, that guides: His swelling waters, and alternate tides ; The figur'd streams in waves of silver roll'd,

335; And on her banks Augufta rose in gold. Around his throne the fea-born brothers stood, Who fivell with tributary urns his flood; First the fam'd authors of his ancient name, The winding Ilis, and the fruitful Thame :

340 The Kennet fivift, for silver eels renown'd; The Lodden ilow, with verdant alders crown'd; Cole, whose dark streams his How'ry islands lave; And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : The blue, transparent Vandalis appears ;

345 The gulphy Lee his ledgy treffes rears; And lu len Mole, that hides his diving flood; And silent Darent, itain'd with Danish blood.

High in the midit, upon his urnt reclin'd, (His tea-green mantle waving with the wind,) 350


The god appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes
Where Windsor domes and pompous turrets rise ;
Then bow'd and spoke ; the winds forget to roar,
And the hudh'd waves glide softly to the shore.

Hail, sacred Peace ! hail, long expected days, 355
That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise !
Though Tyber's streains immortal Rcrie behold,
Though foaming Hermus iwells with tides of gold,
From heav'n itself though sevenfoli Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; 360
These now no more thall be the Muse's themes,
Loft 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 barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train; 365
Be mine the blessings of a peacefuilfeign.
No more my sons shall dye with British blood
Red Iber's fands, or Ister's foanning flood :
Safe on my shore each unmolested Twain
Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain ; 370
The shady empire shall retain no trace
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace;
The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold th' ascending villas on my side,

Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide;
Behold ! Augusta's glitt’ring ipires increase,
And temples rise, the beauteous works of Peace.
I fee, 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. 384

Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods,
And half thy forests rush into the floods,
Bear Britain's thunder, and her crois 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 ;


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Or under southern skies exalt their fails,

391 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 Phebus warm the rip’ning ore to gold.
The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind,
Unbounded Thames thall Aow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And seas but join the regions they divide; 400
Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
Then thips of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire 405
Our speech, cur colour, and our strange attire !
Oh ítretch thy reign, fair Peace! from ihore to shore,
Till conquelt ceale, and flav'ry be no more ;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves ; 410
Perú once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
Exild by thee, from eartli to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds, thall barb'rous Discord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, 415
And mad Ambition, shall attend her there :
There purple Vengeance, bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires :

There hated Envy her own Inakes ihall feel,
And Periecution mourn her broken wheel :

42. There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain, And gasping Furies thirst for bļood in vain.

Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays,
Touch the fair fame of Albio 's golden days :
The thoughts of gods let Granville's verte recite,
And bring the scenes of op’ning fațe to light.
My humble muie, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olives 1pring,
And scatters bietlings from her dove-like wing.


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T will be in vain to deny that I have some regard

for this Piece, since I dedicate it to you. Yet you
may bear me witness, it was intended only to divert
a few young ladies, who have good fenfe and good
humour enough to laugh not only at their fex's little
unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it
was communicated with the air of a secret, it soon
found its way into the world. An imperfect copy
having been offered to a bookteller, you had the
good-nature, for my fake, to content to the publi-
cation of one more correct: this I was forced to
before I had executed half my design, for the ma-
chinery was entirely wanting to complete it.
The machinery, Madam, is a term invented by the

critics, to signify that part which the deities, angels, or dæmons, are made to act in a poem : for the ancient poets are in one respect like many modern ladies, let an action be ever so trivial in itself, they always make it appear of the utmost import

These machines I determined to raise on a very new and odd foundation, the Rosicrufian doc

trine of spirits. I know how disagreeable it is to make use of hard. words before a lady; but it is so much the concern



of a

poet to have his works understood, and particularly by your sex, that you must give me leave to

explain two or three difficult terms. The R ficrutians are a people I must bring you ac

quainted with. The best account I know of them is in a French book called I.e Comte de Gabalis, which, both in its title and size, is so like a novel, that many of the fair tex have read it for one by miliake. According to these gentlemen, the four elements are inhabited by spirits, which they call Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. The gromes, or dæmons of earth, delight in mischiet; but the fylphs, whose habitation is in the air, are the best-conditioned creatures imaginable : for they say, any mortal may enjoy the most intimate fami. liarities with these gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to all true adepts, an inviolate prelerva

tion of chastity: As to the following Cantos, all the passages of them

are as fabulous as the Vision at the beginning, or the Transformation at the end; (except the loss of your hair, which I always mention with reverence.) The human perlons are as fictitious as the airy ones ; and the character of Belinda, as it is now managed,

resembles you in nothing but in beauty. If this Poem had as many graces as there are in your

person, or in your mind, yet I could never hope
it Mould pass through the world half so uncensured
as you have done. But let its fortune be what it
will, mine is happy enough, to have given me this
occasion of alluring you that I am, with the truet

Your most obedient, bumble feruant,

A. Pope.

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