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Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
Happy the man whom this bright court approves.
His sovereign favours, and his country loves:
Happy next him, who to these shades retires,
Whom nature charms, and whom the muse in spues,
Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please,
Successive study, exercise and ease.
He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields;
Wrth chemic art exalts the mineral powers,
And draws the aromatic souls of flowers:
Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er:
Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood,
Attends the duties of the wise and good,
T* observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow Nature, and regard his end;
Or looks on Heaven with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confess her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admired,
Thus Atttcus, and Trumbal thus retired.
Ye sacred Nine ! that all my sou! possess, Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, Bear me, O bear me to sequester'd scenes, The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens; To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill Or where ye, Muses, sport on Cooper's Hill; (On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, Whilo lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flo wi \ seem through consecrated walks to rove, I hear soil music die along the grove; l,ed by the sound I roam from shade to shade By odlike poets venerable made:
Here his first lays majestic Denhamsung:
There the last numbers fiow'd from Cowley's tongue
O early lost! what tears the river shed,
When the sad pomp along his banks was led!
His drooping swans on every note expire.
And on his willows hung each muse's lyre.
Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly vcice,
No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;
Whonowshall charm the shades where Cowley strung
His living harp, and lofty Den ham sung?
But hark ! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
Are these revived ? or is it Granville sings?
Tis yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the muses to their ancient seats;
To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,
To crown the forest with immortal greens,
Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise.
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
To sing those honours you deserve to wear,
And add new lustre to her silver star.
Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage,
Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance,
Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance;
In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre,
To the same notes of love and soft desire:
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now.
Oh, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore
What kings first breathed upon her winding shore.
Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains
In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains.
With Edward's acts adorn the shining page,
Stretch his long triumphs down through every pgc;
Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressi's glorious field,
The lilies blazing on the regal shield!
Then, from her roofs when Verrio's coloum fail,
And leave inanimate the naked w all.
Brill in thy song should vanquish*d Franco appear.
And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
l.ct softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal flourish round his urn:
Heio o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps,
And, fast beside him, oncc-fear'd Edward sleep*
Whom not the extended Albion ceuld contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main,
The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest,
And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd *
Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known
(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stoneO
Oh fact accursed ! what tears has Albion shed?
f Icavens,what new wounds! and how her old have bled
She saw her sons with purple deaths expire,
Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of intestine wars,
Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars.
At length great Anna said,i Let discord cease !*
She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace.
In that blest moment from his oozy bed Old father Thames advanced his reverend head: His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream His shining horns diffused a golden gleam: Sraved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides His swelling waters and alternate tides; The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd, And on their banks Augusta rose in gold: Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood, Who swell with tributary urns his flood. First the famed authors of his ancient name, The winding Isis, and the fruitful Thame: The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd; The Loddon slow, with verdant alders rrown'd; Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave \ And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave: The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears:
A.nd sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And silent Da rent stain'd with Danish blood.
High in the midst, upon his urn reclined,
(His sea-green mantle waving with the wind,)
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 hush'd waves glide softly to the shore:
* Hail, sacred peace! hail, long expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise; Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of goltV From heaven itselfthough sevenfold Nilus flows. And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; These now no more shall be the muses' themes, Lost 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 barbarous Ganges arm a servile train, Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign No more my sons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood: Safe on my shore each unmolested swain Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain t The shady empire shall retain no trace Of war or Hood, but tn the sylvan chace t The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blows And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone. Kchold ! the ascending villas on my side, Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide Behold ! Augusta's glittering spires increase, And temples rise, the beauteous works of pC^CO. I see, 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 see» Once more to bend before i British queen.