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Grav'd on his urn, appear'd the moon that guides
His fwelling waters, and alternate tydes;
The figur'd ftreams in waves of filver roll'd,
And on their banks Augufta rofe in gold.

Around his throne the fea-born brothers stood,
That swell with tributary urns his flood.

First the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
The winding Ifis and the fruitful Tame:
The Kennet fwift, for filver eels renown'd;
The Loddon flow, with verdant alders crown'd:
Cole, whofe clear ftreams his flowry islands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue tranfparent Vandalis appears;
The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffes rears :
And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danish blood.
High in the midft, upon his urn reclin'd,
(His fea-green mantle waving with the wind).
The God appear'd; he turn'd his azure eyes
Where Windfor-domes and pompous turrets rife;
Then bow'd and fpoke; the winds forget to roar,
And the hufh'd waves glide foftly to the fhore.
Hail, facred peace! hail long-expected days,
That Thames's glory to the ftars fhall raise!

Tho'

Tho' Tyber's ftreams immortal Rome behold,

Tho' foaming Hermus fwells with tydes of gold,
From heav'n itself tho' fev'n-fold Nilus flows,
And harvefts on a hundred realms bestows;
These now no more fhall be the Mufe's themes,
Loft in my fame, as in the fea their streams.
Let Volga's banks with iron fquadrons fhine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
Let barb'rous Ganges arm a fervile train ;
Be mine the bleffings of a peaceful reign.
No more my fons fhall dye with British blood
Red Iber's fands, or Ifter's foaming flood;

Safe on my fhore each unmolefted swain
Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;
The fhady empire fhall retain no trace

Of war or blood, but in the fylvan chace,

The trumpets fleep, while chearful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beafts alone.
Behold! th' afcending Villa's on my fide,

Project long fhadows o'er the crystal tyde:
Behold! Augufta's glitt'ring fpires increase,
And temples rife, the beauteous works of peace.
I fee, I fee where two fair cities bend

Their ample bow, a new White-hall afcend!

There

There mighty nations thall enquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;
There Kings fhall fue, and fuppliant states be seen
Once more to bend before a British Queen.

Thy trees,fair Windfor! now fhall leave their woods,
And half thy forests rufh into my floods,
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display,
To the bright regions of the rifing day;
Tempt icy feas, where fcarce the waters roll,
Where clearer flames

round the frozen pole;

Or under fouthern kies exalt their fails,
Led by new stars, and born by spicy gales!
For me the balm thali bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
The pearly fhell its lucid globe infold,

And Phoebus warm the rip'ning ore to gold.
The time shall come, when free as fees or wind
Unbounded Thames fhall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tyde,
And feas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's diftant ends our glory fhall behold,
And the new world launch forth to feek the old.
Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tyde,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy fide,

Whofe

Whofe naked youth and painted chiefs admire
Our fpeech, our colour, and our strange attire!
Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
Till conqueft ceafe, and flav'ry be no more:

Till the freed Indian's in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and wooe their fable loves,
Peru once more a race of Kings behold,
And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.
Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds fhall barb'rous difcord dwell:
Gigantick pride, pale terror, gloomy care,
And mad ambition, fhall attend her there.
There purple vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:"
There hateful envy her own snakes fhall feel,
And perfecution mourn her broken wheel:
There faction roars, rebellion bites her chain,
And gafping furies thirft for blood in vain.

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Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days. The thoughts of Gods let Granville's verse recite, And bring the fcenes of op'ning fate to light. My humble Mufe, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forefts and the flow'ry plains,

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Where Peace defcending bids her olives fpring,
And scatters bleffings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more fweetly pafs my careless days, '
Pleas'd in the filent fhade with empty praise;
Enough for me, that to the lift'ning fwains
First in these fields I fung the fylvan strains.

MESSIAH

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