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And while the raptur'd woodland choir
Pour forth their love-taught lays;
I'll tune the grateful mattin fong
To my Creator's praife."

He bade the folar orb advance
To chear the gloomy sky;
And at the gentle voice of Spring
Made hoary Winter fly.

He drefs'd the groves in smiling green,
Unlock'd the ice-bound rill;

Bade Flora's pride adorn the vale,
And herbage crown the hill.

To that All-gracious Source of Light,
Let early incense rise,

While on Devotion's wing the foul
Afcends her native skies':

And when the rapid car of day

Illumes the fartheft weft,

When Sleep diffolves the captive's chains,"

And Anguifh finks to reft;

Then let me range the fhadowy lawns,
When Vefper's filver light

Plays on the trembling ftreams, and gikts
The fable veil of night.

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Wide o'er th' etherial plains;"


Soars thro' the trackless realms of space,

Sees endless systems roll; Whilft all harmoniously combine

To form one beauteous whole.

All hail, sweet Solitude! to thee,
In thy fequefter'd bower,

Let me invoke the Paftoral Muse,

And every fylvan power.

Dear, penfive nymph, the tender thought

And deep research is thine;

'Tis thine to heal the tortur'd breast, And form the great defign.

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URE there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnaffus, nor did taste the stream

Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose

Thofe made not poets,, but the

poets those


And as courts make not kings, but kings the court,
So where the Muses and their train refort,
Parnaffus ftands; if I can be to thee
A poet, thou Parnaffus art to me:
Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight,
By taking wing from thy aufpicious height)
Through untrac'd ways and airy paths I fly,
More boundless in my fancy than my eye;
My eye, which swift as thought contracts the space
That lies between, and first falutes the place
Crown'd with that facred pile, so vaft, fo high,
That whether 'tis a part of earth, or sky,
Uncertain feems, and may be thought a proud
Afpiring mountain, or defcending cloud.

Paul's, the late theme of fuch a Mufe * whose flight
Has bravely reach'd and foar'd above thy height:
Now fhalt thou ftand, tho' fword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall confpire,
Secure, whilft thee the beft of poets fings,
Preferv'd from ruin by the belt of kings.

Under his proud furvey the city lies,

And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise;

Whofe ftate and wealth, the bufinefs and the crowd,
Seems at this distance but a darker cloud;

* Mr. Waller.


And is to him who rightly things esteems,

No other in effect than what it seems;

Where, with like hafte, tho' fev'ral ways, they run,

Some to undo, and fome to be undone :
While luxury and wealth, like war and peace,
Are each the others ruin, and increase ;
As rivers loft in feas, fome fecret vein
Thence re-conveys, there to be loft again.
Oh, happiness of sweet retir'd content!
To be at once fecure, and innocent.

Windfor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells,
Beauty with ftrength) above the valley fwells

Into my eye, and doth itself present
With fuch an eafy and unforc'd afcent,
That no ftupendous precipice denies
Accefs, no horror turns away our eyes;
But fuch a rife, as doth at once invite
A pleasure and a reverence from the fight,
Thy mighty master's emblem, in whofe face
Sate meeknefs, heighten'd with majeftick grace;
Such feems thy gentle height, made only proud
To be the bafis of that pompous load,
Than which, a nobler weight no mountain bears,
But Atlas only which fupports the spheres.
When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance,
'Twas guided by a wifer pow'r than chance;
Mark'd out for fuch an use, as if 'twere meant
T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent.

Nor can we call it choice, when what we chuse,
Folly or blindnefs only cou'd refufe.

A crown of fuch majestick tow'rs does grace
The gods great mother, when her heav'nly race
Do homage to her, yet fhe cannot boast
Among that num'rous, and celestial hoft,
More heroes than can Windfor, nor doth Fame's
Immortal book record more noble names.

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Not to look back fo far, to whom this isle
Owes the first glory of fo brave a pile,
Whether to Cæfar, Albanact, or Brute,
The British Arthur, or the Danish Knute,
(Tho' this of old no lefs conteft did move,
Than when for Homer's birth fev'n cities ftrove ;
Like him in birth, thou should't be like in fame,
As thine his fate, if mine had been his flame :)
But whofoe'er it was, Nature defign'd

First a brave place, and then as brave a mind.
Not to recount those sev'ral kings, to whom
It gave a cradle, or to whom a tomb;
But thee, great Edward, and thy greater fon *,
(The lilies which his father wore, he won)
And thy Bellona †, who the confort came
Not only to thy bed, but to thy fame,
She to thy triumph led one captive king 1,
And brought that fon, which did the fecond bring.
Then didft thou found that order (whether love
Or victory thy royal thoughts did move)
Each was a noble caufe, and nothing lefs
Than the defign, has been the great fuccefs;
Which foreign kings, and emperors esteem
The fecond honour to their diadem.

Had thy great destiny but giv'n thee skill
To know, as well as pow'r to act her will,
That from thofe kings who then thy captives were,
In after-times should spring a royal pair,
Who fhould poffefs all that thy mighty pow'r,

Or thy defires more mighty, did devour:
To whom their better fate referves whate'er
The victor hopes for, or the vanquish'd fear;

Edward III. and the Black Prince.

+ Queen Philippa,

The Kings of France and Scotland.


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