Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please,
Succeffive ftudy, exercise, and ease.

He gathers health from herbs the foreft yields,
And of their fragrant phyfick spoils the fields:
With chymick art exalts the min'ral pow'rs,
And draws the aromatick fouls of flow'rs:
Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Confults the dead, and lives past ages o'er :
Or wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wife and good,
T' obferve a mean, be to himself a friend,

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To follow nature, and regard his end;

Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal eyes,

Bids his free foul expatiate in the skies,

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Amid her kindred ftars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confefs her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd,
Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus retir'd.

Ye facred Nine! that all my foul poffefs,
Whose raptures fire me, and whofe vifions blefs,
Bear me, O bear me to fequefter'd scenes,
The bow'ry mazes, and furrounding greens;

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To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,

Or where ye mufes fport on Cooper's Hill.

(On Cooper's Hill eternal wreathes shall grow,

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While lafts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow)

I feem thro' confecrated walks to rove,

I hear foft mufick die along the grove:

Led by the found, I roam from fhade to fhade,

By god-like poets venerable made.

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Here his first lays majestick Denham fung;

There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue.

O early loft! what tears the river shed,

When the fad pomp along his banks was led!

Since fate relentless stopp'd their heav'nly voice, No more the forefts ring, or groves rejoice;

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Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley ftrung

His living harp, and lofty Denham fung?
But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
Are these reviv'd? or is it Granville fings?

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'Tis yours, my lord, to blefs our foft retreats,
And call the mufes to their ancient feats
To paint anew the flow'ry fylvan fcencs,
To crown the forefts with immortal greens,
Make Windfor hills in lofty numbers rife,
And lift her turrets nearer to the fkies;
To fing thofe honours you deserve to wear,
And add new luftre to her filver star.

Here noble Surrey felt the facred rage,
Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
Matchlefs his pen, victorious was his lance,
Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance:

In the fame fhades the Cupids tun'd his lyre,
To the fame notes, of love, and foft defire:

Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,

Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Mira now.

Oh, would'st thou fing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breath'd upon her winding fhore,

Or raife old warriors, whofe ador'd remains

In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!
With Edward's acts adorn the fhining page,

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Stretch his long triumphs down thro' ev'ry age,

Draw monarch's chain'd, and Creffi's glorious field,

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The lilies blazing on the regal fhield:

Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall,

And leave inanimate the naked wall,

Still in thy fong fhould vanquifh'd France appear,
And bleed for ever under Britain's fpear.

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Let fofter ftrains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal flourish round his urn.
Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps,

And, faft befide him, once-fear'd Edward fleeps:

Whom not th' extended Albion could contain,

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From old Belerium to the northern main,

The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest,

And blended lie th' oppreffor and th' oppreft!
Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known,
(Obfcure the place, and un-infcrib'd the stone)
Oh, fact accurs'd! what tears has Albion fhed!

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Heav'ns, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!

She faw her fons with purple deaths expire,

Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire,
A dreadful feries of inteftine wars,

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Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars; ·

At length, great Anna faid- Let difcord ceafe!"

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She faid, the world obey'd, and all was peace!
In that blefs'd moment, from his oozy bed,
Old Father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head,
His treffes dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream
His fhining horns diffus'd a golden gleam:
Grav'd on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His fwelling waters, and alternate tides;

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The figur'd streams in waves of filver roll'd,
And on their banks Augufta rofe in gold.
Around his throne the fea-born brothers stood,
Who fwell with tributary urns his flood!

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First, the fam'd authors of his ancient name,

The winding Ifis, and the fruitful Thame :

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The Kennet fwift, for filver eels renown'd;

The Loddon flow, with verdant alders crown'd;

Cole, whofe dark fireams his flow'ry iflands lave;

And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:

The blue, tranfparent Vandalis appears;

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The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffes rears;

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And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danish blood,
High in the midst, 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 spoke; the winds forget to roar,
And the hufh'd waves glide foftly to the shore.

Hail, facred Peace! hail, long-expected days,

• That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise!

Tho' Tiber's ftreams immortal Rome behold,

Tho' foaming Hermus fwells with tides of gold,
• From heav'n itself the fev'n-fold Nilus flows,
• And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;

These now no more shall be the mufe's themes,
Loft in my fame, as in the sea their streams.
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons fhine,
And groves of lançes 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:

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Safe on my fhore each unmolested swain

• Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;

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The fhady empire fhall retain no trace

• Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace ;

• The trumpet sleep, while chearful horns are blown, And arms employ'd on birds and beafts alone. Behold! th' afcending villa's on my fide,

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Project long fhadows o'er the crystal tide.
Behold! Augufta's glitt'ring spires encrease,

And temples rife, the beauteous works of peace.
I fee, I fee, where two fair cities bend
Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend!

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There mighty nations shall enquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;

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There kings fhall fue, and fuppliant ftates be feen

Once more to bend before a British queen.

Thy trees, fair Windfor! now fhall leave their woods 385 And half thy forests rush into the floods;

Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display,
To the bright regions of the rifing day;

Tempt icy feas, where scarce the waters roll,

• Where clearer flames glow round the frozen Pole;

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• Or under fouthern skies exalt their fails,

• 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 it's lucid globe infold,

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• And Phoebus warm the rip'ning ore to gold. The time fhall come, when free as feas or wind,

• Unbounded Thames fhall flow for all mankind,
• Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
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 tide,
• And feather'd people croud my wealthy fide,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Our fpeech, our colour, and our strange attire!

• Oh, ftretch thy reign, fair Peace! from fhore to fhore,

• Till conqueft cease, and flav'ry be no more;

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Till the freed Indians, in their native groves,

Reap their own fruits, and woo their fable loves,

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• 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 :

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There