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Nor all the tasks of thoughtful peace engage, "Tis thine to form the hero as the sage. I see the sable-suited prince advance With lilies crown'd, the spoils of bleedingFrance, Edward. The Muses in yon cloister's shade Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade: Bade him the steel for British freedom draw; And Oxford taught the deeds that Cressy saw.

And see, great father of the sacred band, The * Patriot King before me seems to stand. He, by the bloom of this gay vale beguil'd, That cheer'd with lively green the shaggy wild, Hither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid, The Muse in prattling infancy convey'd ; From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore, And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore : Soon grew the maid beneath his fost'ring hand, Soon stream'd her blessings o'er the enlighten’d,

land. sdwell

Though simple was the dome, where first to
She deign'd, and rude her carly Saxon cell,
Lo! now she holds her state in sculptur'd bow'rs,
And proudly lists to Heaven her hundred tow’rs.
'Twas Alfred first, with letters and with laws,
Adorn'd, as he advanc'd, his country's cause:
He bade relent the Briten's stubborn soul,
And sooth'd to soft society's control
A rough untutor'd age. . With raptur'd eye
Elate he views his laurel'd progeny:
Serene he smiles to find, that not in vain
He form'd the rudiments of learning's reign :
Himself he marks in each ingenuous breast,
With all the founder in the race express'd ;
Conscious he sees fair Fredom still survive
In yon bright domes, ill-fated fugitive 1
o as when the Goddess pour'd the
Unsully'd on his antient diadem) [beam
Well pleas'd, that at his own Pierian springs
She rests her weary feet, and plumes her wings;
That here at last she takes her destin'd stand,
Here deigns to linger ere she leave the land.

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At morn. I take my custom'd round,
To mark how buds yon shrubby nound,
And ev'ry op'ning primrose count
That trimly paints my blooming mount:
Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude,
That grace my gloomy solitude.
I teach in winding wreaths to stray
Fantastic ivy's gadding spray.
At eve, within you studious nook,
I ope my brass-embossed book,
Portrayed with many a holy deed
Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed.
Then, as my taper waxes dim,
Chant, ere I sleep, my measur'd hymn;
And, at the close, the gleams behold
Of parting wings bedropt with gold.
While such pure joys my bliss create.
Who but would snile at guilty state 2
Who but would wish his holy lot
In calm Ol:livion's humble grot ?
Who but would cast his pomp away,
To take my staff and amice gray;
And to the world's tumultuous stage
Prefer the blameless hermitage 2

61. Monody, written near Stratford upon § %. T. WArto N. f Avos, thy rural views, thy pastures wild, The willows that o'erhang thy twilight edge, Their boughs entangling with th' embauled

sedge ;

Thy brink with wat'ry foliase quaintly fringd,
Thy surface with reflected verdure ting’d,
Sooth me with many a pensive pleasure mild.
But while I muse, that here the bard divine
Whose sacred dustyon high arch'd aisles inelose,
Where the tall windows rise in stately rows
Above th' embow'ring shade,
Her first, at Fancy's fairy circled shrine,
Of daisies pied his infant off ring made;
Here . yet, in stripling years unripe,
Fran'd of thy reeds a shrill and artless pipe:
Sudden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled,
As at the waving of some magic wand;
An holy trance my charmed spirit wings,
And awful shape of warriors and of kings
People the busy mead,
Like spectres swarming to the wizard's hall;
And slowly pace, and point with trembling hand
The wounds ill-cover'd by the purple pals.
Before me Pity seems to stand
A weeping mourner, smote with anguish sore,
To see Misfortune rend in frantic mood
His robe with regal woes embroider'd o'er.
Pale terror leads the visionary band,
And sternly shakes his sceptre, drepping blood.

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- * Alfred,

So

Oncemorethemainherconqu'ringbanners sweep,

So pure the vows which classic duty pays
To bless another Brunswick's rising rays
O Pitt, if chosen strains have power to steal
Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal;
If votive verse, from sacred Isis sent,
Might hope to charm thy manly mind, intent
On patriot plans, which antient freedom drew,
Awhile with fond attention deign to view
Thisample wreath, which all th'assembled Nine
With skill united have conspir'd to twine.
Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's cause:
Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause
The duteous Muse, whose haste officious brings
Her blameless off ring to the shrine of kings:
Thy tongue, well tutor'd in historic lore,
Can speak her office and her use of yore :
For such the tribute of ingenuous praise
Her harp dispens'd in Grecia's golden days;
Such were the palms, in isles of old renown,
She cull'd, to deck the guiltless monarch's crown;
When virtuous Pindar told, with Tuscan gore
How scepter'd Hiero stain'd Sicilia's shore,
Or to mild Theron's raptur'd eye disclos'd
Bright vales, where spirits of . brave repos'd :
Yet still beneath the throne, unbrib'd, she sat
The decent handmaid, not the slave, of state;
Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name
To blend the lustre of her country's fame:
For, taught likeours, she dar'd with prudent pride
Obedience from dependence to divide :
Though princes claim'd her tributary lays,
With truth severe she temper'd partial praise;
Conscious she kept her native diguity,
Bold as her flights, and as her numbers free.
And sure if e'er the Muse indulg'd her strains,
With just regard to grace heroic reighs,
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own
So dear to fame as George's trophy'd throne?
At whose firm base thystedfast soul aspires
To wake a mighty nation's antient fires:
Aspires to basile Faction's specious claim, , ,
Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim :

Again her Commerce darkens all the deep.

Thy fix'd resolve renews each firm decree

That made, that kept of yore, thy country free.

Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms,
Its willing youth the rural empire arms: -
Again the lords of Albion's . lains
March the firin leaders of their faithful swains;
As erst stout archers, from the farm or fold, .
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold.
Northine the ponyp of indolent debate,
The war of words, the sophistries of state:
Nor frigid caution checks thy free design,
Nor stops thy stream of eloquence divine:
For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd,
To feel, to think, to speak, for public good
In vain Corruption di her venal tribes;
Qhe common cause,onecommon end prescribes:
Nor fear nor fraud or spares or screens the foe,
But spirit prompts, and valor strikes the blow.

O Pitt, while honor points thy libral plan, And o'er the Minister exalts the Man, isis congenial greets thy faithful sway, - Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay. For 'tis not Hers, by false connexions drawn At splendid Slavery's sordid shrine to fawn; Fach native effort of the feeling breast To friends, to foes, in equal fear, supprest: Tis not for her to purchase or pursue The phantom favors of the cringing crew : More useful toils her studious hours engage, And fairer lessons fill her spotless page : Beneath ambition, but above disgrace, With nobler arts she forms the rising race: With happier tasks, and less refin'd pretence, In elder times, she woo'd Munificence To rear her arched roofs in regal guise, And lift her temples nearer to the skies; Princes and prelates stretch'd the social hand , To form, diffuse, and fix, her high command: Froin kings she claim'd, yet scorn'd to seek, the

rize; - [wise

From kings, like George, benignant, just, and,

Lo, this her genuine lore. — Northou refuse:

This humble present of no partial Muse , From that calm Bow'r", which nurs'd thy, thoughtful youth , ,

In the pure precepts of Athenian truth:
Where first the form of British Liberty .
Beaund in full radiance on thy musing eye;
That form, whose mien sublime, with equal awe,
In the same shade unblemish'd Somers saw : .
Where once (for well she lov'd the friendly grove
Which ev'ry classic Grace had learn'd to rove).
Her whispers wak'd sage Harrington to feign
The blessings of her visionary reign; . . . . . . .
Thatreign, which now, nonlorean emptytheme,
Adorns Philosophy's ideal dream, '' .
But crowns at last, beneath a George's smile,
In full reality this favor'd isle. *

- -

§ 63. On the Marriage of the King, Mpcclzi.
to her Majesty. T. §.
WHEN first the kingdom to thy virtues due
Rose from the billowy deep in distant view ;
When Albion's isle, old Ocean's peerless pride,
Tow'r'd in imperial state above the tide;
What bright ideas of the new domain
Form'd the fair prospect of thy promis'd reign :
Aud well with eonscious joy thy breast might
That Albion was ordain'd thy regal seat: [beat
Lo! this the land, where Freedom's sacred rage
Has glow'd untam'd thro' many a martial age,
Here patriot Alfred, stain'd with Danish blood,
#. on one base the king's, the people's good :
Here Henry's archers fram'd the stubborn bow

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Here walk'd the flame, that still superior braves
The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitious slaves:
Here Chivalry, stern school of valor old,
Her noblest feats of knightly fame enroll'd ;

* Trinity College, Oxford; in which also Lord Somers, and Sir James Harrington, author of the , Of antient chivalry's undaunted woils ;

Oceana, were educated.

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Heroic champions caught the clarion's call,
And throng'd the feastin Edward's banner'd hall;
While . like George, approv’d in worth
alone,
Unlock'd chaste Beauty's adamantine zone.
Lo! the fam'd isle, which hails thy chosensway,
What fertile fields her temporate suns display !
Where Property secures the conscious swain,
Andguards, while Plenty gives, the goldengrain:
Hence with ripe stores her villages abound,
Her airy downs with scatter'd sheep resound;
Fresh are her pastures with unceasing rills,
And future navics crown her darksome hills.
To bear her formidable glory far,
Behold her opulence of hoarded war?
See, from her ports a thousand banners stream;
On ev'ry coast her vengeful lightnings gleam :
Meantime, remote from Ruin's armed hand,
In peaceful majesty her cities stand;
Wh9se splendid domes and busy streets declare
Their firmest fort, a king's parental care.
Andoh blest Queen, if e'er the magic pow'rs
Qf warbled truth have won thy musing hours;
Here Poesy, from awful days of yore,
Has pour'd her genuine . of raptur'd lore.
Mid oaken bow'rs, with holy verdure wreath'd,
In Druid songs her solemn spirit breath'd :
While cunning Bards at antient banquets sung
Qf paynim foes defied, and trophies hung.
Here Spenser tun'd his mystic minstrelsy,
And dress'd in fairy robes a Queen like Thee.
Here, boldly mark'd with ev'ry living hue,
Nature's unbounded portrait Shakspeare drew :
But chico the dreaded group of human woes
The daring artist's tragic pencil chose ;
Explor'd the pangs that rend the royal breast,
Those wounds that lurk beneath the tissued vest.
Lo! this the land, whence Milton's Muse of fire
High soard to steal from heaven a seraph's lyre;
And told the golden ties of wedded love
In sacred Eden's amaranthine grove.
Thine too ! majestic Bride, the favor'd clime,
Where Science sits enshrin'd in roofs sublime.
Q. mark, how green her wood of antient bays
Q'er Isis' marge in many a chaplet strays
Thither, if haply some distinguish'd flow'r
Of these mix’d i. from that ambrosial bow'r
Mightcatch thy glance, and, rich in Nature's hue,
Fntwine thy diadem with honor due;
If seemly gifts the train of Phoebus pay,
To deck imperial Hymen's festive day';
Thither thyself shall haste, and mildly deign
To tread withnymph-likestep theconscious plain;
Pleas'd in the Muse's nook, with decent pride,
To throw the sceptred pall of state aside.
Nor from the shade shall George be long away,
Whichclaims Charlotta'slove,and courisherstay.
These are Britannia's praises. Deign to trace
With rapt reflection Freedom's fav'rite race!
Hut though the gen'rous isle, in arts and arms,
us stand supreme in Nature's choicestcharms,
Tho' George and Conquest guard her sea-girt
throne,
One happier blessing still she calls her own;

And, proud to cull the fairest wreath of Fame Crowns her chief honors with a Charlotte” name.

§ 64. On the Birth of the Prince of Wales. T. WARton,

Written after the Installation at Windsor, in the same year.

IMPERIAl Dome of Edward wise and brave!
Where warlike Honor's brightest banners
wave ; [deeds,
At whose proud tilts, unmatch'd for hardy
Heroic kings have frown'd on barbed steeds;
Though now no more thy crested chiefs advance
In arm'd array, nor grasp the glitt'ring lance;
Though Knighthood boasts the martial pomp
no more
That grac'd its gorgeous festivals of yore;
Say, consciousl)ome,ife'erthy marshall'd knights
So nobly deck'd their old majestic rites
As when, high-thron'daunidihy trophy'd shrine,
George shone the leader of the garter d line?
Yet future triumphs, Windsor, still remain;
Still may thy bow'rs receive as brave a train:
For lo! to Britain and her favord Pair
Heaven's high command has senta sacred Heir!
Him the bold pattern of his patriot sire
Shall fill with early fame's immortal fire:
In life's fresh springere buds the promis'd prime,
Histhoughts shallmounttovirtue's meed sublime:
The patriot fire shall catch, with sure presage,
Each libral omen of his op'ning age;
Then to thy courts shall lead, with conscious joy,
In stripling beauty's bloom, the princely boy;
There firmly wreathe the Braid . heavenly dye,
True valor's badge, around his tender thigh.
Meantime, thy royal piles that rise elate
With many an antique tow'r, in massy state,
In theyoung champion's musing mind shallraise
Vast images of Albion's elder days;
While, as around his cager glance explores
Thychambers,roughwithwar'sconstructedstores,
Rude helms, and É. shields, barbaric spoils

Amid the dusky trappings hung on high,
Young Edward's sable mail shall strike his eye;
Shall fire the youth to crown his riper years
With rival Cressys, and a new Poictiers; ,
On the same wall, the same triumphal base,
His own victorious mouwments to place.
Nor can a fairer kindred title move
His emulative age to glory's love
Than Edward, laureate prince. In letter'd truth,
Oxford, sage mother, school'd his studious youth:
Her simple institutes and rigid lore
The royal nursling unreluctant bore;
Nor shunn'd, at pensive eve, with lonesome pace,
Thecloister's moon-light-chequer'd floortoirace;
Nor scorn'd to make the sun, at natins due,
Stream through the storied windows holy hue.
Andoh, youngPrince, bethine his moralpraise;
Nor seekin fields of blood his warrior ow

ar

War has its charms terrific. Far and wide
When standsth'embattled hostin banner'd pride;
9'er the vext plain when the shrill clangors run,
And the long phalanx flashes in the sum :
When now no longers of the deathful day
Mar the bright scene, nor break the firin array;
Full oft too rashly glows with fond delight
The i. breast, and asks the future fight;
Nor knows that Horror's form, a spectre wan,
Stalks yet unseen, along the gleanly van. -
May no such rage be thine; no dazzling ray
Qs specious fame thy stedfast feet betray !
Be thine domestic glory's radiant calm,
Be thine the sceptre wreath'd with many a
Bethine the throne with peaceful emblems
The silver lyre to milder conquests strung!
Instead of glorious seats . in arms,
Bid rising arts display their mimic charms:
Just to thy country's fame, in tranquil days,
Record the past, and rouse the future praise:
Before the public eye,in breathing brass,
Bid thy fam'd father's mighty triumphs pass :
Swell the broad arch with haughty Cuba's fall,
And clothe with Minden's plain th’historichall.
Then mourn not, Edward's Dome, thine an-
tient boast,
Thy tournaments and listed combats lost
From Arthur's Board, no more, proud castle,
mourn

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Adventurous Valor's gothic trophies torn 1
Those eifin charms, that held in ınagic night
Its elder fame, and dimm'd its genuine light
At length dissolve in Truth's meridian ray,
And the bright Qrder burst to perfect day:
The mystic round, begirt with bolder peers,
On Virtue's base its rescued glory rears; -
Sees civil Prowess mightier acts achieve;
Sees meek Humanity distress relieve;
Adopts the Worth o bids the conflict cease,
And claims its honors from the Chiefs of Peace.

§ 65. Ode to Sleep. T. WARton.

Qs this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep!
Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest:
Wipe with thy wing these eyes that waketoweep,
And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
Q steep my senses in oblivion's balm,
Andsooth mythrobbing prise with lenient hand;
This tempest of my boiling blood becalm
Despair grows mild at thy supreme command.
Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom,
And sadly toiling through the tedious night,
I seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom,
For ever hov'ring, haunts my o sight.
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm:
Black midnight, and the radiant noon, alike
To me appear, while with uplified arm
Death stands prepard, but still delays, to strike.

$66. The Hamlet, written in Whichwood Forest. T. Warton.

The hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd

To quit their hamlet's hawthorn-wild,

Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main,
For splendid care and guilty gain!
When morning's twilight tinctur'd beam
Strikes their low thatch with slanting glean,
They rove abroad in ether blue,
To dip the scythe in fragrant dew :
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell,
That nodding shades a craggy dell.
"Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear,
Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear;
On green untrodden banks they view
The hyacinth', neglected hue;
In their lone haunts and woodland rounds,
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds;
And startle from her ashen spray,
Across the glen, the screamingjay :
Each native charm their steps explore
Of solitude's sequester'd store.
For them the moon with cloudless ray
Mounts, to illume their homeward way:
Their weary spirits to relieve,
The meadows incense breathe at eve.
No riot mars the simple fare
That o'er a glimm'ring hearth they snare:
But when the curfew's measur'd roar
Duly, the dark'ning valleys o'er,
Has echo'd from the distant town,
They wish no beds of cygnet-down,
No trophied canopies, to close
Their drooping eyes in quick repose.
Their little sons, who spread the bloom
Of health around the clay-built room,
Or through the primros'd coppice stray.
Or gambol in the new-mown hay;
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine,
Or drive afield the tardy kine;
Or hasten from the sultry hill
To loiter at the shady o,
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest
To rob the raven's anticht nest.
Their humble porch with honeyed flow'rs
The curling woodbine's shade embow'rs.
From the trim garden's thymy mound
Their bees in busy swarins resound.
Nor fell Disease, before his time,
Hastes to consume life's golden prime;
But when their temples song have wore
The silver crown of tresses hoar;
As studious still calm peace to keep,
Beneath a flow'ry turf they sleep.

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Scarce a sickly straggling flow'r
Decks the rough castle's rifted tow'r
Scarce the hardy primrose peeps
From the dark dell's entangled steeps:
Q'er the field of waving broom:
Slowly shoots the golden bloom :
And, but o fits, the furze-clad dale
Tinctures the transitory gale:
While from the shrubb'ry's nak'd maze,
Where the vegetable blaze -
Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone,
Ev'ry chequer'd charm is flown;
Save that the lilac hangs to view
Its bursting gems in clusters blue.
Scant along the ridgy land
The beans their ... ranks expand:
The fresh-turn'd soil with tender blades
Thinly the sprouting barley shades :
Fringing the forest's devious edge,
Half-rob’d appears the haw-thorn hedge;
Or to the distant eye displays
Weakly green its budding sprays,
The swallow, for a moment seen,
Skims in haste the village green:
From the grey moor, on feeble wing,
The screaming plovers idly spring
The butterfly, gay-painted soon,
Explores awhile the tepid noon,
And fondly trusts its tender dyes
To fickle sun; and flatt'ring skies,
Fraught with a transient, frozen show'r,
If a cloud should haply low'r,
Sailing o'er the landscape dark,
Mute on a sudden is the lark;
But when gleams the sun again
Q'er the pearl-besprinkled plain,
And from behind his wat'ry veil
Looks through the thin-descending hail,
She mounts, and less'ning to the sight,
Salutes the blythe return of iight,
And high her tuneful track pursues
Mid the dim rainbow's scatter'd hues.
Where in venerable rows
Widely waving oaks inclose
The moat of youder antique hall,
Swarm the rooks with clam'rous call;
And, to the toils of nature true,
Wreath their capacious nests anew.
Musing through the lawny park,
The lonely poet loves to mark
How various greens in faint degrees
Tinge the tall groups of various trees:
While, careless of the changing year,
The pine cerulean, never fear,
Tovors distinguish'd from the rest,
And Proudly Yaunts her winter vest,
Within some whispering osier isle,
Where Glym's low banks neglected smile;
And each trim meadow still retains
The wint'ry torrent's oozy stains:
Beneath a willow, long forsook,
The fisher seeks his custom'd nook: .
And bursting thro' the crackling odge
That crown; the curreul's caveragedge,

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He startles from the bordering wood
The bashful wild-duck's early brood.
O'er the broad downs, a novel race,
Frisk the lambs, with faitering pace,
Add with eager bleetings fill
The foss that skirts the beacon'd hili.
His free-born vigor yet unbroke
To lordly man's usurping yoke,
The bounding colt forgets to play:
Basking beneath the nootide ray,
And stretch'd among the daisies, pride
Of a green dingle's i. jing side :
While far beneath, where nature spreads
Her boundless length of level meads,
In loose luxuriance taught to stray
A thousand tumbling rills inlay
With silver veins the vale, or pass
Redundant thro the sparkling grass.
Yet in these presages rude,
"Midst her pensive solitude,
Fancy, with prophetic glance,
Sees the teeming months advance;
The field, the forest, green and gay,
The dappled slope, the tedded hay;
Sees the reddening orchard blow,
The harvest wave, the vintage flow ;

Sees June unfold his glossy robe

Of thousand hues o'er all the globe;

Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn, And plenty load her ample horn.

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BENEATH the beech, whose branches bare Smit with the lightning's vivid glare, O'erhang the craggy road, And whistle hollow as they wave; Within a solitary grave, A wretched Suicide i. his accurs'd abode. Lower'd the grim unorn, in murky dies Damp mists involved the scowling skies, And dimm'd the struggling day; As by the brook that ling ring laves Yon rush-grown moor with sable waves Full of the dark resolve he took his sullen way. I mark'd his desultory pace, His gestures strange, and varying face, With many a mutter'd sound; And ah! too late aghast I view'd The reeking hlade, the hand embru'd ; He fell, andgroaninggrasp'd in agony the ground. Full many a melancholy night He watch'd the slow return of light; And sought the pow'rs of sleep, To spread a momentary calm O'er his sad couch, and in the balm [steep,

|Of bland oblivion's dews his burning eyes is

Full oft, unknowing and unknown, He wore his endless moons alone, Amid the autumnal wood: Oft was he wont in hasty fit, Abrupt the social board to quit, And *...* eager giance upon the tumbling

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