Of ancient writ unlocks the learned ftore,
Confults the dead, and lives paft ages o'er.
Or wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wife and good,
T'observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow nature, and regard his end.

t

Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal eyes, I
Bids his free foul expatiate in the skiesi
Amidft her kindred stars 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

of

Ye facred Nine that all my foul poffefs, Whofe raptures fire me, and whofe vifions bless, Bear me, oh bear me to fequefter'd fcenes, Of bow'ry mazes, and furrounding greens; DA To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill, T Or where ye Mufes fport on Cooper's hillman ol (On Cooper's hill eternal wreaths fhall grow, While lafts the mountain, or while Thames hall flow) I feem thro' confecrated walks to rove, And hear foft mufic dye along the grove;

ст

Led

Led by the found I roam from shade to shade,
By god-like Poets venerable made:

Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;

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?
His drooping fwans on ev'ry note expire,

And on his willows hung each Mufe's lyre.
Since fate relentless stop'd their heav'nly voice,
No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;
Who now shall charm the fhades, where Cowley ftrung
His living harp, and lofty Denham fung?
But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
Are thefe reviv'd? or is it Granville fings?

'Tis yours, my Lord, to blefs our foft retreats,
And call the Mufes to their ancient feats,
To paint anew the flow'ry fylvan scenes,
To crown the forefts with immortal greens,
Make Windfor-hills in lofty numbers rife,
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;

* Mr. Cowley died at Chertsey on the borders of the Foreft, and was from thence convey'd to Westminster.

To

To fing thofe honours you deferve to wear,
And add new luftre to her filver Star.

Here noble * Surrey felt the facred rage,
Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance;
Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance:
In the fame shades the Cupids tun'd his lyre,
To the fame notes, of love, and soft desire:
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Myra now.

Oh would'st thou fing what Heroes Windfor bore, What Kings first breath'd upon her winding shore, Or raife old Warriors whofe ador'd remains

In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!

With + Edward's acts adorn the fhining page, t

Stretch his long triumphs down thro' ev'ry age, Draw Monarchs chain'd, and Creffi's glorious field, The Lillies blazing on the regal shield.

Then, from her Roofs when Verrio's colours fall, And leave inanimate the naked wall;

* Henry Howard E. of Surrey, one of the first refiners of the English Poetry; who flourish'd in the time of Henry the VIIIth

+ Edward III. born here.

R

Still

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

Let fofter strains ill-fated* Henry mourn, And Palms eternal flourish round his urn. Here o'er the martyr-King the marble weeps, And fast beside him, once-fear'd † Edward fleeps: Whom not th' extended Albion could contain, From old Belerium to the Northern main, The grave unites; where ev'n the Great find reft, And blended lie th' oppreffor and th' opprest!

Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known,
(Obscure the place, and un-infcrib'd the ftone)
Oh fact accurft! what tears has Albion fhed,
Heav'ns what new wounds! and how her old have bled?
She saw her fons with purple deaths expire,
Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire.
A dreadful Series of inteftine wars,
Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars.

At length great Anna faid---Let difcord cease!
She faid, the World obey'd, and all was Peace!

* Henry VI.

+ Edward IV.

In

In that blest moment, from his oozy bed Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head. His treffes drop'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 tydes ; 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, That swell with tributary urns his flood. First the fam'd authors of his ancient name, The winding Ifts and the fruitful Tame: The Kennet fwift, for filver Eels renown'd; The Loddon flow, with verdant alders crown'd: Cole, whose clear ftreams his flowry iflands 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 midst, upon his urn reclin'd, (His fea-green mantle waving with the wind)

The