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Whose numbers ftealing thro' thy darkning vale,
May not unfeemly with its ftillness fuit,

As mufing flow, I hail

Thy genial lov'd return!

For when thy folding-ftar arifing shows
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
The fragrant Hours, and Elves
Who flept in buds the day,

And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with

fedge,

And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still,

The penfive Pleasures sweet

Prepare thy fhadowy car.

Then let me rove some wild and heathy fcene,
Or find fome ruin 'midft its dreary dells,

Whofe walls more awful nod

By thy religious gleams.

Or

Or if chill bluftring winds, or driving rain,

Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut,
That from the mountain's fide,

Views wilds, and fwelling floods,

And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd fpires.
And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers draw

The gradual dusky veil.

While Spring fhall pour his fhowers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport

Beneath thy lingering light:

While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves,
Or Winter, yelling thro' the troublous air,
Affrights thy fhrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes:

So long regardful of thy quiet rule,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, fmiling Peace,

Thy gentleft influence own,

And love thy favourite name!

ODE

ODE TO PEACE.

Thou, who bad'ft thy turtles bear

Swift from his grasp thy golden hair, And fought'ft thy native skies:

When War, by vultures drawn from far,

To Britain bent his iron car,

And bad his ftorms arife!

Tir'd of his rude tyrannic fway,

Our youth shall fix some festive day,

His fullen fhrines to burn:

But thou, who hear'ft the turning spheres,
What founds may charm thy partial ears,
And gain thy bleft return!

O Peace, thy injur'd robes up-bind!
Orife, and leave not one behind

Of all thy beamy train;

The British lion, Goddefs fweet,

Lies ftretch'd on earth to kifs thy feet,

And own thy holier reign,

Let

Let others court thy tranfient smile,
But come to grace thy western isle,
By warlike Honour led!

And, while around her ports rejoice,
While all her fons adore thy choice,
With him for ever wed!

THE

THE MANNERS. AN ODE.

Arewell, for clearer ken defign'd;

FAre

·

The dim-difcover'd tracts of mind:
Truths which, from action's paths retir'd,
My filent fearch in vain requir'd!
No more my fail that deep explores,
No more I fearch thofe magic fhores,
What regions part the world of foul,
Or whence thy ftreams, Opinion, roll:
If e'er I round fuch Fairy field,

Some power impart the fpear and shield,
At which the wizzard Paffions fly,
By which the giant Follies die!

Farewell the porch, whose roof is seen,
Arch'd with th' enlivening olive's green:
Where Science, prank'd in tissued veft,
By Reason, Pride, and Fancy drest,
Comes like a bride, so trim array'd,

To wed with Doubt in Plato's fhade!

Youth

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