In the clear azure gleam the flocks are feen,
And floating forefts paint the waves with green;
Thro' the fair scene roll flow the ling ring freams.
Then foaming pour along, and rufh into the Thames.
Thou, too, great father of the British floods!
With joyful pride furvey 'ft our lofty woods;
Where tow'ring oaks their growing honours, rear,
And future navies on thy fhores appear:
Not Neptune's felf from all her ftreams receives
A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.
No feas fo rich, fo gay no banks appear,
No lake fo gentle, and no fpring fo clear;
Nor Po fo fwells the fabling Poet's lays,
While led along the fkies his current strays,
As thine, which vifits Windfor's fam'd abodes,
To grace the manfion of our earthly Gods;
Nor all his ftars above a luftre fhew
Like the bright beauties on thy banks below;
Where Jove, fubdued by mortal paffion ftill,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.

1

Happy the man whom this bright Court approves, His fov'reign favours, and his country loves: Happy, next him, who to thefe fhades retires, Whom Nature charms, and whom the Mufe infpires; Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, Succeffive ftudy, exercife, and eafe. He gathers health from herbs the foreft yields, And of their fragrant phyfic fpoils the fields;

J

With chemic arts exalts the min'ral pow'rs,

And draws the aromatic fouls of flow'rs:

༢ ་

Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high ; vazno pr
O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned flore,
Confults the dead, and lives paft ages o'er; }
Or wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood, ut
Attends the duties of the wife and good, Buah wont telat
T'obferve a mean, be to himself a friend, regulovni vr_
To follow nature, and regard his endrong sdi Istad měs
Or looks on heaven with more than mortal eye,
Bids his free foul expatiate in the fkies, you

!

Amid her kindred ftars familiar roam,oh Mor Han 12
Survey the region, and confess her home work visa d'k-
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd; noto ~T.
Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus, retir'dan 7 9 M
Ye facred Nine! that all my foul poffefs,
Whofe raptures fire me, and whose visions bless.
Bear me, oh bear me to fequefter'd scenes,
The bow'ry mazes, and furrounding greens;
To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,
Or where ye Mufes fport on Cooper's Hill

(On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths fhall

grow,

While lafts the mountain, or while Thames fhall flow).

I feem thro' confecrated walks to rove,

. I hear foft mufic die along the

grove:

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

By godlike poets venerable made :

Here

Here his firft lays majestic Denham fung;

There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue.
O early loft! what tears the river fhed,
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 stopp'd their heavenly voice,
No more the forells ring, or groves rejoice;
Who now fhall charm the fhades where Cowley ftrung
His living harp, and lofty Denham fung!
But hark! the groves rejoice, the foreft rings!
Are these reviv'd ? or is it Granville fings ?
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats;*~
To paint anew the flow'ry fylvan fcenes,
To crown the forefts with immortal greens,
Make Windfor hills in lofty numbers rise.
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
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
Matchless 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,

age

To the fame notes, of love, and foft defire;' 1! mm I
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira nowy bod

ОН

Oh wouldst thou fing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breath'd upon her winding fhore; Orraise old warriors, whofe ador'd remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains: With Edward's acts adorn the fhining page, Stretch his long triumphs down thro' ev'ry age. Draw monarchs chain'd, and Crelli's glorious field, 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.
Let fofter ftrains ill-fated Henry mourn,

2

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,
From old Belerium to the northern main,
The grave unites; where e'en the great find reft.
And blended lie th' oppreffor and th' oppreft!
Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known,
Obfcure the place, and uninfcrib'd the ftone).
Oh fact accurs'd! what tears has Albion fhed!
Heavens! 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,
Inglorious triumphs, and d'fhoneft fcars.

At

At length great Anna faid— Let discord cease!'
She faid, the world obey'd, and all was peace!

In that bleft moment from his oozy bed

Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head;
His treffes dropp'd with dews, and o'er the fream,
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;

The figur'd freams in waves of filver roll'd,
And on their banks Augufta rofe in gold;
Around his throne the fea-born brothers flood,
Who fwell with tributary urns his flood!
Firft, the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
The winding Ifis, and the fruitful Thame;
The Kennet fwift, for filver eels renown'd;
The Loddon flow," with verdant alders crown'd;
Cole, whofe clear ftreams his flow'ry iflands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls á milky wave:
The blue, tranfparent Vandalis appears ;
The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffès rears ;
And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danifh 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's domes and pompous turrets rife!
Then bow'd and spoke; the wind's forget to roar,
And the hufh'd waves glide foftly to the fhore.

Vol. VI. 22.

B

Hail,