Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd,
Thus Atticus, and TRUMBAL thus retir'd.

261

Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess, Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, Bear me, oh bear me to sequester'd scenes, The bow'ry 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 While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow} ́ I seem through consecrated walks to rove, I hear soft music die along the grove :

267

Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade,

By god-like Poets venerable made:

270

Here his first lays majestic DENHAM sung;

There the last numbers flow'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 ev'ry note expire,

And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre.

275

Since fate relentless stop'd their heav'nly voice,

No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;

Who now shall charm the shades, where COWLEY

strung

His living harp, and lofty DENHAM sung ?
But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
Are these reviv'd? or is it GRANVILLE sings!
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats;

280

Το

To paint anew the flow'ry sylvan scenes,
To crown the forests 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 tun'd his lyre,
To the same notes, of love, and soft desire:
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Mira now.

285

290

295

301

Oh would'st thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breath'd upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriors, whose ador'd remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains! With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, Stretch his long triumphs down through ev'ry age, Draw

VER. 282.] The Mira of Granville was the Countess of Newburgh. Towards the end of her life Dr. King, of Oxford, wrote a very severe satire against her. in three books, 4to. called The Toast.

VER. 291. Here noble Surrey] Henry Howard Earl of Surrey, one of the first refiners of the English poetry; who flourished in the time of Henry VIII.

VER. 297. Fair Geraldine] The Fair Geraldine, the general object of Lord Surrey's passionate sonnets, was one of the daughters of Gerald, Earl of Kildare, but the whole story is a romance.

VER. 303. Edward's acts] Edward III. born here.

Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressi's glorious field, The lilies blazing on the regal shield:

306

Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall,
And leave inanimate the naked wall,

Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear,

And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.

310

Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn, And palms eternal flourish round his urn. Here o'er the Martyr-King the marble weeps, And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps: Whom not th' extended Albion could contain, 315 From old Belerium to the northern main,

The

grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' opprest!

Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known, (Obscure the place, and uninscrib'd the stone) 320 Oh fact accurst! what tears has Albion shed, Heav'ns, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!

She saw her sons with purple death expire,

Her sacred domes involv'd in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of intestine wars,

Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.

325

At

VER. 307.] Verrio, an artist much employed in painting ceilings

and stair-cases.

VER. 311. Henry mourn,] Henry VI.

VER. 314. once-fear'd Edward sleeps :] Edward IV.

VER 316.] See an account of Belerium, so called from Bellerus a Cornish giant, that part of Cornwall called the Land's End, in Warton's edition of Milton's Poems, p. 28.

329

At length great ANNA said " Let Discord cease!"
She said, the world obey'd, and all was Peace!
In that bless'd moment from his oozy bed
Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head;
His tresses drop'd with dews, and o'er the stream
His shining horns diffus'd a golden gleam;
Grav'd on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His swelling waters, and alternate tides;
The figur'd streams in waves of silver roll❜d,
And on her banks Augusta rose in gold.
Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
Who swell with tributary urns his flood:

First the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame:
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd;
The Lodden slow, with verdant alders crown'd;
Cole, whose dark streams his flow'ry islands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears;
The gulphy Lee his sedgy tresses rears;
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood.
High in the midst, upon his urn reclin❜d,
(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.

335

340

345

350

«Hail,

360

"Hail, sacred Peace! hail long-expected days, 355
That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise !
Tho' Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold,
Tho' foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,
From heav'n itself tho' sev'nfold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;
These now no more shall be the Muse's themes,
Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.
Let Volga's banks with iron squadron's shine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
Let barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train ;
Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.
No more my sons shall die 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;
The shady empire shall retain no trace

365

371

Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace :
The trumpet sleep, while chearful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold! th' ascending villas on my side

Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide;
Behold! Augusta's glitt'ring spires increase,
And Temples rise, the beauteous: works of Peace.
I see, I see, where two fair cities bend

Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend!

375

380

There

VER. 378. And Temples rise,] The fifty new Churches.