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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 praise.
He bade the folar orb advance
To chear the gloomy sky;
And at the gentle voice of Spring
Made hoary Winter fly.
He dress'& 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
Ascends her native skies:
And when the rapid car of day
Illumes the farthest west,
When Sleep dissolves the captive's chains,
And Anguilh furks to reft ;
Then let me range the shadowy lawns,
When Vesper's filver light
Plays on the trembling streams, and girls
The fable veil of night.
Goars 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 Pastoral Muse;
And every sylvan power.
Dear, pensive nymph, the tender thought
And deep research is thine ; 'Tis thine to heal the tortur'd breast,
And form the great design.
On thy still bosom let me rest,
Far from the clang of war;
Where stern Oppreffion's bloody chains
Precede the victor's car :
Here fold me in thy sacred arms,
Where Albion's happy plains Exulting tell the nations round
A British Brunswick reigns.
Here let me hail each rifing fun,
Here view each day's decline :
Be fame and fway my sovereign's lot,
Be peace and freedom mine!
URE there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream
Of Helicon ; we therefore may suppose
Those made not poets,, but the poets those ;
And as courts make not kings, but kings the court,
So where the Muses and their train resort,
Parnassus stands ; if I can be to thee
A poet, thou Parnassus art to mę:
Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight,
By taking wing from thy auspicious 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 vast, so high,
That whether 'tis a part of earth, or sky,
Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud
Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud.
Paul's, the late theme of such a Muse * whose fight
Has bravely reach'd and foar'd above thy height:
Now shalt thou stand, tho’ fword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire,
Secure, whilst thee the best of poets fings,
Preserv'd from ruin by the best of kings.
Under his proud survey the city lies,
And like a milt beneath a hill doth rise;
Whose state and wealth, the business and the crowd,
Seems at this distance but a' darker cloud ;
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 some to be undone :
While luxury and wealth, like war and peace,
Are each the others ruin, and increase ;
As rivers loft in seas, fome secret vein
Thence re-conveys, there to be lost again.
Oh, happiness of sweet retir'd content!
To be at once fecure, and innocent.
Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells,
Beauty with strength) above the valley swells
Into my eye, and doth itself present
With such an easy and unforc'd ascent,
That no stupendous precipice denies
Access, no horror turns away our eyes ;
But such a rise, as doth at once invite
A pleasure and a reverence from the fight,
Thy mighty master's emblem, in whole face
Sate meekness, heightend with majestick grace ;
Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud
To be the bafis of that pompoys' laad,
Than which, a noble; weight no mountain bears,
But Atlas only which supports the spheres.
When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance,
'Twas guided by a wiser pow'r than chance;
Mark'd out for such 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 blindness only cou'd refuse.
A crown of such majestick tow'rs does grace
The gods great mother, when her heav'nly race
Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast
Among that num'rous, and celestial host,
More heroes than can Windsor, nor doth Fame's
Immortal book record more noble names.
Not to look back so far, to whom this ifle
Owes the first glory of so brave a pile,
Whether to Cæsar, Albanact, or Brute,
The British Arthur, or the Danish Knute,
(Tho' this of old no less conteft did move,
Than when for Homer's birth fey'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 whosoe'er it was, Nature design'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 son,
(The lilies which his father wore, he won)
And thy Bellona t, 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 second bring.
Then didst thou found that order (whether love
Or victory thy royal thoughts did move)
Each was a noble cause, and nothing less
Than the design, has been the great success;
Which foreign kings, and emperors esteem
The second 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 those kings who then thy captives were,
In after-times should spring a royal pair,
Who should possess all that thy mighty pow'r,
Or thy desires 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,
1 The Kings of France and Scotland.