Already has she own'd the potent spell,
And felt a change which Ovid's verse should tell.
While the pleas'd traveller, with soft surprise,
O'er heathy moors sees length'ning shades arise!
Or marshy lakes, their noisome vapours fled,
With verdant meads and rip'ning harvests spread:
While placid you adorn the naked plain,
And groves and vistas rise as you ordain.

[groves;

Let southern climes their painted prospects boast, And scorn the beauties of a colder coast; Nature is bounteous here-were friendly Art As kindly forward to perform her part; That part your genius can sustain alone, For here you see no triumphs but your own. How bloom thy gardens crown'd with soft delight! And spread successive beauties to the sight; What airy prospects! what romantic views! Surprise the fancy, and inspire the Muse! Through the long vista, or the casual break, Glitter the blue canal, or silver lake; Sweetly bewilder'd the spectator roves Midst hills, and moss-grown rocks, and hanging With care the eye examines every part, Too form'd for Nature-yet too wild for Art; And from the gloom of the descending wood, Bursts on the spacious green, or glassy flood; Whence wide beneath the boundless prospect lies, Of intermingled lands, and sea, and skies! Fair to the northward, with capacious tide, His ample bosom spreads delightful Clyde. A little sea!-so wide his billows roar, From green Cantyre to Galloway's rocky shore: High from the centre of the subject deep, Vast Ailsa 3 rears his summit broad and steep, Shoots his aspiring head into the skies, And the loud blast and noisy wave defies; So firm thy virtue, Stair, preserves its face, Untroubled, or by favour, or disgrace; Conscious delights with calm content to glow, Regardless of the murmuring world below.

Here, all the shadowy scenes of grandeur past, The sweets of philosophic leisure taste; No levees here shall break your morning rest, No envy darken, and no fears molest; Far off shall Flattery hold her wretched train, And Falsehood shall in distant cities reign; But smiling Innocence your steps shall wait, And Health, untroubled with the farce of state: While in the cooling walk, or breezy shade, You talk with Plato and the sacred dead; Revolve the Grecian chief's immortal page, Or smile with Horace at a motley age; While round you, Virtue forms a heavenly guard, Herself in solitude, her own reward:

$ Xenophon,

"When vice prevails, and infamy grows great,
The post of honour is a private state."

So the dictator left his little field,
And taught in arms his country's foes to yield;
But Rome deliver'd, all his task was o'er,
He scorn'd the trappings of deceitful pow'r,
To his lov'd farm with joy return'd again,
And with his victor-hands improv'd the plain.

In manners uncorrupt-as great in arms,
Free from Corruption's all-defiling charms,
As Rome was then-were happy Britain now,
Pleas'd you might guide the patrimonial plough,
But oh! her safety contradicts the wish,
Demands your counsel-and retards my bliss.
Go on then, glorious, to assert her cause,
Defend her freedom, and sustain her laws:
Nor fear the servile crowds that Interest guide,
While Truth and Virtue combat on your side.
These shall at length with mighty force prevail,
Justice shall, righteous, lend her sword and scale,
In this, impartial, your designs shall weigh,
With that shall Fate to Britain's foes convey,
Unnumber'd wishes your attempts shall bless,
And Heav'n to Freedom give the due success:
Nor want we patriots, though the soil be rude,
Souls unenslav'd, that greatly dare be good;
Such as unmov'd can statesmen's arts behold,
And smile at prostituted pow'r and gold.
Leave earth-born worms the plunder to divide,
And keep with Cato-the neglected side.

Then when Britannia's present gloom is o'er, When doubts shall vex her halcyon peace no more: When Commerce from its slumber shall revive, And public Faith, by resurrection live, When private views no more our bliss oppose, And Thenis pays the long account she owes! When Albion vindicates her dormant claim, Resumes her balance and commands the main, Then, not till then, with all men's praises crown'd; Complete, your glory in its circle bound: To me retire;-and in the grateful shade, Which on my shore your industry has made, In quiet wait fair life's declining ray, The certain promise of a brighter day.

DELIGHTFUL Nature! child of heavenly Light!
Whose form enchants us, and whose smiles delight!
Once more, chaste goddess, animate the song,
Inspire the lays! To thee the lays belong!
My step conduct-be thou my charming guide
Amidst the scenes that show thy noblest pride:
Where, pleas'd, thy hand Elysian bow'rs prepares,
To bless the hero's toils-the patriot's cares.

Begin, fond Muse!-but whither am I tost?
Where have I stray'd, in sweet confusion lost!
Thee, goddess, I beheld with pleas'd surprise,
Confess'd, like monarchs in a rich disguise!

Thy native majesty attracts the heart, And shows thy empire o'er the works of art: So virtue shines in Cobham's steady mind, And leaves the shadowy forms of pomp behind. Here Art attends-and waits thy ruling will, For she at best is but thy handmaid still; If thou thy state imperial wouldst express, She looks thy wardrobe, and puts on thy dress! In the clear wave the crystal mirror holds, Or rich with gems thy flow'ry robe unfolds: If ornaments thou slight'st, and pomps displease, She then retires, and leaves thee to thy ease: Leaves thee to take thy ev'ning walk unseen, O'er the sequester'd shade, or lonesome green; Where meditation soothes thy thoughtful breast,, And birds and waters lull thee to thy rest: Where they who never knew thy charms, may know, For all thy countless charms are seen at Stowe. Two square pavilions opening to the scene, First lead the Muse to the enchanted plain. Whence to the north this Tempé we survey, Its glories bright'ning to meridian day! Hence spreads a liquid octagon to view, And charms the eye with its unclouded blue; Full in the midst an obelisk ascends, And high in air the wat'ry column sends: Two distant rivers winding from the right Descend-and in one spacious stream unite; Which gently gliding through its verdant shores, In the broad octagon its treasure pours. High on a summit all below commands, Fair Liberty, thy destin'd temple stands; Where, like some queen expell'd her lawful throne, A refuge thou shalt find-thy value known, And see lost realms-that once were all thy own. North through an avenue, the growth of years, The distant mansion to the eye appears; Which, still transported as it turns around, Beholds new charms diversify the ground: Here num'rous herds that range th' adjacent plain, There hills with bleating flocks adorn the scene: Or flow'ry lawns, or shades of tufted trees, Or waters quivering to the temper'd breeze. Thus all combin'd the ravish'd fancy strike, And leave it at a loss where most to like. Directed hence along the carpet grass By three fair statues to the left we pass, Where through the Bath, descending, is convey'd The Bason, falling from a broad cascade; While through the ruin'd arch the waters break, And form below a wide extended lake: Whose distant borders sylvan scenes unfold, Such as the huntress-goddess us'd of old: When rash Acteon spy'd the heav'nly maid, And with his forfeit life the folly paid.

Close by the lake our progress we pursu'd, To the fair Hermitage conceal'd in wood, Whence wide beneath, the blue expanse was seen Reflecting from its wave the trembling green! Thence through the windings of the artful shade, Thy Temple, beauteous Venus, we survey'd; Before, fit emblem of the lover's view,

Stand the first foes which Nature ever knew '. Fit emblem, goddess, of thy cruel power, Which oft has bath'd the warring world in gore: Has smil'd to set the dearest friends at strife, And made the brother suatch the brother's life:

The statues of Cain and Abel.

Yet mild at first thy savage yoke appears,
And like this scene a beauteous prospect wears:
For scenes like this thy fatal flame inspire,
Unnerve the soul, and kindle soft desire!
While amorous birds with music fill the grove,
And ev'ry breathing zephyr whispers love!
Within the dome see sportive Cupids play,
And clap their silver wings, and seem to say--
"Now let him love, who never felt the pain;
Before who lov'd-here let him love again 2."
Hence through a wood with opening vistas grac'd,
(At each some rural termination plac'd)
The west pavilion to the eye succeeds,
Whence to the house the fair avenue leads;
Plac'd in the midst-and sacred to his fame,
Rises the pyramid with Vanbrugh's name.
Here, wondrous architect! repos'd, receive
The grateful honours Cobham loves to give;
Here like his gardens shall thy mem'ry bloom,
Nor couldst thou wish a more distinguish'd tomb.
In the next dome, from vulgar thought conceal'd,
This wise inscription stands to sight reveal'd 3,
"Life is a feast-enjoy it while you may,
When age comes on, 'tis time to steal away,
Lest laughing youth remind thee of the rule,
Nothing so foolish as a doating fool."

Now by the wood, which rises to the right,
The opening field relieves the crowded sight,
Here great Alcides, firm in marble plac'd,
Holds the expiring son of Earth embrac'd 4:
Just image, Cobham, of thy victor toil,
Which tam'd the genius of the rugged soil;
Which gave the face of Nature pow'r to warm,
And soften'd every blemish in a charm.

Hence to th' Augustine Cave our way we

sped,

A moss-grown cell, with grateful umbrage spread;
Such blameless hermits held in days of old,
Ere priestcraft grew, or Heav'n was priz'd for gold.
Plain is the scene, and well befits the heart
That never stain'd its innocence with art.

As the skill'd painter captivates the sight,
By nicely intermingling shade and light;
So in these happy scenes, each object plac'd,
Throws beauty round, and charms the finest taste;
So just the contrasts-and the point so true,
'Tis all that Nature, all that Art can do!
In sweet delusion is the fancy lost,
Nor knows attention where to settle most.

Thus from the cave through the receding green, Thy temple, son of Semele, was seen : Pictur'd within thy mystic rites advance, And nymphs and satyrs round thy Thyrsus dance: Such was the jovial triumph once thou led, When India first ador'd thy mitred head. When thy gay car submissive tigers drew, And men the genial pow'r of Bacchus knew.— From hence disclos'd a beauteous prospect lies, West as the setting Sun adorns the skies! Where Aylesbury her golden vale extends, And clos'd with purple hills the landscape ends.

But solemn scenes demand th' attentive Muse, Such as the Druids lov'd of old to choose:

2 From Catullus, Nunc amet, &c.

3 From Horace, Lusisti satis, &c.

4 The statues of Hercules and Anteus.

5 St. Augustine's cave.

For lo conspicuous stands the awful Grove",
Sacred to Woden and the Saxon Jove:
Around the central altar seem to stand,
The gods ador'd by Hengist's valiant band;
Life seems each breathing figure to inform,
A godlike freedom, and a noble scorn.
O glorious race! O nation dear to fame!
Eternal founders of the British name!
From whom exalted Albion grateful draws
Her long-establish'd rights-her sacred laws;
Though in the gulf of wasting time were lost
Each ancient monument your name can boast,
Yet in this hallow'd shrine shall one remain,
While freedom lives to bless Britannia's plain.
As darts the Sun oblique his varied rays,
When through the fleecy cloud his lustre plays,
Here deepens to a gloom the varied green,
There beams a light-and shifts the shadowy scene:
But when the obvious vapour melts away,
The boundless prospect brightens into day.
So hitherto enchanted had we stray'd

Where first her heart the sweet delusion found,
As yet unconscious of a future wound.
Next to the fair ascent our steps we trac'd,
Whence shines afar the bold Rotunda " plac`d;
The artful dome Ionic columns bear

Light as the fabric swells in ambient air,
Beneath unshrin'd the Tuscan Venus stands,
And beauty's queen the beauteous scene commands:
The fond beholder sees with sweet surprise,
Streams glitter, lawns appear, and forests rise-
Here through thick shades alternate buildings break,
There through its borders steals the silver lake;
A soft variety delights the soul,

And harmony resulting crowns the whole.
Now by the long canal we gently turn,
Whose verdant sides romantic scenes adorn;
As objects through the broken ground we see,
And there a statue rises, there a tree.
Here in an amphitheatre of green,

With slopes set off which form a rural scene,
On four Ionic pillars rais'd to sight

tray'd:

Now issuing from the covert, with surprise,
Th' unbounded landscape open'd to our eyes;
Whence south, its dome the fair Rotunda rears,
Plac'd to the east equestrian George appears 7;
Oppos'd, new walks o'erlook'd the forest lawn,
Where sport the peaceful deer and wanton fawn;
Full in the midst, enthron'd like beauty's queen,
Surrounded by her graces, Stowe is seen;
And in the crystal mirror plac'd below,
Beholds her ev'ry charm reflected glow;
Where snowy swans along the surface glide,
And rear their stately necks with graceful pride;
Wide from before a long succession spreads,
Of distant woods, green hills, and flow'ry meads.
O'er the free scene expatiates the sight,
And all the soul is lost in sweet delight.

8

Behind, disclos'd, the gay parterre is seen, With vases deck'd 9, and banks of living green; Here shelter'd all Hesperia's treasures bloom, And the bright orange sheds its rich perfume. While placid as they rise on ev'ry hand, In Cobham's smile the favour'd Muses stand; And Phoebus points to the celestial quire, The scenes that best the poet's flame inspire, And bids them here, expell'd their native Greece, Attune the lyre, and sing the sweets of peace.

Conducted hence, through the declining shade,
Thy statue, great Augustus 1°, rears its head;
A stately column's fair Corinthian height,
Bears with triumphant air the royal weight:
Which seems a smile majestic to bestow,
As pleas'd that Britain can produce a Stowe.
Now through the deep'ning wood's projected
gloom,

To Dido's Cave with devious step we come,
Where the dim twilight of the arch above
Seems to express the queen's disastrous love,
For semblant such of old the fatal bow'r,
Where Venus led her in ill-omen'd hour.

6 The Saxon temple, or altar placed in an open

grove.

? Equestrian statue of George I.

8 Circular bason with swans.

9 Apollo, and the Muses, and two orangeries. Te Statue of George II,

Here the bright queen her heav'nly form displays,
Eternal subject of the Muse's praise:
But faint all praise her merit to impart,
Whose mem'ry lives in every British heart.

Now leave we, devious, the declining plain,
Awhile to wander through the woodland scene:
Here where six cent'ring walks united meet,
Morpheus invites us to his still retreat 13;
And while the tide of life uncertain flows,
Bids you "indulge yourself, and taste repose."
But stop, my Muse-I feel a conscious fear,
As if conceal'd divinity was near.

What do I see! What solemn views arise!
What wonders open to my thoughtful eyes!
Midst purling streams in awful beauty drest,
The shrine of ancient Virtue stands confest;
A Doric pile, by studious Cobham plac'd,
To show the world the worth of ages past;
When innocence-when truth still found regard,
And cherish'd merit had its due reward,

Within, four grateful statues honour'd stand,
Inspire attention, and estcem command;
Epaminondas first in arins renown'd,
Whose glorious aim his country's freedom crown'd,
Born in each social virtue to excel,
With whom the Theban glory rose, and fell.
Lycurgus next, in steady virtue great,
Who for duration form'd the Spartan state;
And Wealth expelling, with her baneful train,
Left a republic worth the name of men.
There Socrates, th' Athenian wise and good,
With more than mortal sanctity endu'd:
Who freed philosophy from useless art,

And show'd true science was to mend the heart.
Last stands the prince of bards 14, whose deathless
Does virtue in exalted verse convey:

Sets every passion in its native light,
And fills the soul with terrour and delight.
These point the way to reach immortal praise
Is life on public virtue's base to raise,
And show that goodness and our country's love
Exalt us to the blissful seats above;

[lay

Where bards repose, and godlike patriots smile,
And glorious heroes rest from earthly toil.
While, like the ruin plac'd in view beneath,
The tyrant and oppressor rot in death;
All born of vice devoted to decay,
And hastening like the gliding brook away.

Now leaving with regret the solemn wood,
We by the winding stream our course pursu'd;
Where stands the lonesome grotto sweetly plac'd,
With all the art of sportive Nature grac'd:
Two neighb'ring domes on spiral columns rise,
With shells and min'rals spangl'd to the eyes,
Whence, still directed by the winding stream,
Amus'd, we to the three-arch'd building came.
Hence, west, the church adorns th' opening height,
Eastward, the spacious pond relieves the sight;
In which, of form Chinese, a structure lies,
Where all her wild grotesques display surprise,
Within Japan her glitt'ring treasure yields,
And ships of amber sail on golden fields.
In radiant clouds are silver turrets form'd,
And minie glories glitter all around.

Soon tir'd of these, the river next we cross'd, To scenes 14 where Fancy is in wonder lost; Such were th' Elysian fields describ'd of old By raptur'd bards, who blest the age of gold; Such gay romantic prospects rise around, With such profusion smiles the flow'ry ground. So steals th' ambrosial pleasure on the mind, We think 'tis Heav'n-and leave the world behind. So shine with native pomp the realms of light, So pure the ether, and the scenes so bright. Hail, sacred spot! May no unhallow'd tread Profane thy beauties, or thy sweets invade. Hence all ye slaves of vice and pow'r away; Here none approach, but who are fit to stay. See where the guardian of these blissful seats, Discerning Hermes, on the assembly waits! And ranks to fame each British worthy known, Who here distinguish'd, finds a just renown! Those happy kings who Flatt'ry's voice disdain'd, Who in their subjects' hearts with glory reign'd; Patriots who for their country joy'd to bleed, Or statesmen who the public weal decreed: Poets who scorn'd the Muses to profane, Nor courted vice, nor wrote for sordid gain: Or those by arts of use to human kind, Who toil'd to leave a worthy name behind, Names that for Virtue's godlike ends were born, To bless, to save, to counsel, to adorn. Serene in justice, and in goodness great, Here Alfred shines the founder of the state! Here Edward smiles, as when the world's delight, In peace belov'd, and dreadful in the fight. Here stands Eliza, empress of the main, Who Europe freed, and humbled haughty Spain. William, whose sword his native land reliev'd, And Britain from impending fate retriev'd. Here Raleigh lives, the man who greatly fell, For speaking truly-and for acting well. And Drake who first with naval glory crown'd, Bore Britain's fame the spacious globe around! With Hampden firm assertor of her laws, And proto-martyr in the glorious cause. There Gresham does his true encomium claim, And points the merchants' honourable name : There Jones, great architect! who taught our isle With Greek and Roman elegance to smile:

14 The decorated part called the Elysian fields.

Milton, whose genius, like his subject high,
Gave him beyond material bounds to fly!
And manly Shakspeare, whose extensive mind
Could fathom all the passions of mankind!
There Newton lives, whose sight was form'd to trace
Deep Nature's laws, and clear her mystic face.
And Bacon, first who left the jangling schools
To fix philosophy on certain rules.

With Locke, who, showing truth in reason's light,
Taught the instructed mind to judge aright.

Two living worthies 15 here distinguish'd breathe, And taste of spotless fame before their death; By no inscription is their merit shown, Their names suffice to eternize the stone. For Barnard's virtue scorns all borrow'd rays, And Pope's exalted merit baffles praise.

Now passing onward from th' Elysian ground, An enigmatic monument we found; Sacred to honest Fido's 16 blameless name, A foreigner of no ignoble fame:

Much art is shown his virtues to commend; "A tender husband, and a faithful friend; No bigot-Nature was his constant rule, And though conversant with the great-no fool." Think this no flatt'ry, though so much in vogue, "Tis real truth-for Fido-was a dog.

To Freedom's Shrine, across the level field, Still circling to the night our course we held: Plac'd on the summit's lofty brow it stands, And all the wide extended view commands. Descending hence, new objects meet the eyes; Spread to the left a long plantation lies; While from the right two winding rivers bend, And to the opening Bason smooth descend. Here the Palladian Bridge, observed before At distance, pleas'd we nearer now explore; Where are choice busts antique and modern seen, "And the glad world pays homage to the queen." Now to th' Imperial Cabinet we come, Of cubic form the bright historic room, Where monarchs wholesome counsel may receive, Since Cæsars the instructive lesson give; "There Titus' motto tells he mourn'd the day In which his goodness shed no friendly ray! The delegated sword of Trajan shows, Himself not spar'd, if rank'd with virtue's foes: There mild Aurelius, friend of human kind, Conveys this maxim from his generous mind; If rais'd to regal pow'r, such mandates give, As, chang'd, you would a private man receive." Lessons like these humanity impart,

And bend to mercy ev'n the tyrant's heart.

Now through a stately gate we take our way, And the surprising terrours pleas'd survey: Stretch'd to the eye the lineal walk extends, And bounded by the Shrine of Venus ends: Here Friendship's Temple strikes the ravish'd sight, With finish'd symmetry and graceful height; Manly as is the theme it means to grace, The lofty square displays its Doric face, For Cobham this devoted frame intends For Virtue's fav'rites and for Britain's friends 17.

15 The busts of sir John Barnard and Pope. 16 Signor Fido, an Italian dog.

17 The prince of Wales, earls of Westmoreland, Chesterfield, and Marchmont; lords Cobham, Gower, and Bathurst; Richard Grenville, Pitt, and Lyttelton.

Now by the Octagon our course we hold, Where laughing Satyrs beauty's queen behold: While the gay goddess, careless of their smile, Spreads ev'ry charm industrious to beguile. And now the sweet delightful circuit done, Our progress ended where it first begun.

Thus has the Muse with feeble wing essay'd To paint the wonders of th' enchanted shade; And, fond the charms of Nature to explore, Rov'd, like the studious bee, from flow'r to flow'r; Stopp'd by each pleasing object she could meet, To sip some fragrance, or collect some sweet. But as where Britain's fair assembled shine, The rays of beauty spread a light divine: So here where Nature does her triumphs show, And with majestic hand adorns a Stowe ; Description fails-all fancy is too mean, They only can conceive it, who have seen.

JOB.

CHAPTER III.

THUS Job began-" Curst be the fatal morn
In which distinguish'd wretchedness was born.
From the fair round of the revolving year
Perish that day! nor let the night appear
In which this speck of entity began
To swell to misery, and promise man!
Let darkness stain it o'er, no friendly ray
Pierce through the gloom of that disastrous day!
But shades of terrour o'er its circuit spread,
And fold it in the mantle of the dead.
O'er that curst night may double horrours dwell,
Such as enwrap the punishments of Hell.
No cheerful sounds its solitude awake,
But such as fiends and tortur'd wretches make;
Such as may wound the soul and shock the air,
The groans of death, and howlings of despair.
May all its stars with rays diminish'd show,
And through the dusky air obscurely glow.
No glimpse of hope the dreadful scene adorn,
Nor let it see the promise of a morn—
Because it shut not up my mother's womb,
And join'd at once my cradle and my tomb:
Why dy'd I not? Why did preventive care
My destin'd life for future sorrows spare?
Then had I found that ease I seek in vain,
Nor known this load of unexampled pain."
"O grave! thou refuge of the soul distress'd,
When shall I sink into thy downy rest?
There kings and mighty ones neglected rot,
In their own mouldering monuments forgot:
(Though once of grandeur and of pow'r possest,
And all the treasures of the shining east :)
There men no longer vain distinctions boast,
In common dust the prince and slave are lost:
Low lies th' oppressor bound in lasting chains,
There of his rod the wretch no more complains!
There cease the wailings of the heart distress'd,
And there the weary find eternal rest.”

"Why sparest thou, O Lord, a life like mine? While with incessant pray'rs for death I pine: Why is that blessing giv'n to wealth and pride, But to the wretch distress'd like me, deny’d.

Beset my path, and mingle with my food.
In vain my cries and groans continual rise,
In vain my tears I pour and waste my sighs:
While all my fears upon my soul are come,
By thee forsaken, hopeless and undone."

ANNIVERSARY ODE

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF A Daughter WHO DIED IN 1726.

BEGIN my Muse, and strike the lyre,
Let grief the melting tones inspire,
And sadly consecrate the day,
That snatch'd my soul's delight away.

When first the beauteous infant maid
The early seeds of sense display'd,
With her dear prattle sooth'd my cares,
And charm'd my fond transported ears,
How did her op'ning bloom arise!
And as it struck my ravish'd eyes,
Oft promis'd to my years' increase,
A store of innocence and peace.

But soon, too soon, those flatt'ring joys
Fate's interposing hand destroys:
And, lost in Death's all gloomy shade,
The dear delusive vision fled.

So does the early budding rose
Its blushing fragrancy disclose,
Allure the touch, and smell, and sight,
And yield each sense a soft delight.

Till some rash foe its pride invade,
And ravish'd from its native bed,
Its odour and its hue decay,
And all its beauties fade away.

Thus were my dreams of comfort crost,
And with the fav'rite virgin lost;
And all my schemes of bliss to come
Enclos'd within her early tomb!

Thence clouds of new afflictions rise,
And, brooding o'er the darken'd skies,
With their sad melancholy shade,
The horizon of life o'erspread.

While o'er the young Sabina's urn
Thus with paternal grief I monrn;
Around my soul new sorrows break,
And leave my woes no room to speak.
On Atticus' delightful age

Fate next employ'd her cruel rage;
With ease dissolv'd life's feeble chain,
And freed the suff'ring saint from pain.

O ever honour'd sacred name!
If in the bright immortal train
One thought of Earth can touch thy rest,
Look down on this afflicted breast.

Teach me, like thee, through life to steer,
Patient and calm my lot to bear;
Teach me thy heav'nly steps to trace,
And reach, like thee, the realms of peace.