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Now fainting, finking, pale, the nymph appears ;
Now clofe behind, his founding steps the hears;
And now his shadow reach'd her as The

run,

191
His shadow lengthen’d by the setting fun;
And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, 195
Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid.
Faint, breathless, thus the pray'd, nor pray'd in vain;
« Ah Cynthia! ah--tho' banish'd from thy train,

Let me, O let me, to the shades repair,
My native shades -- there

weep,

and murmur there. She said, and melting as in tears the lay, In a soft, silver stream diffoly'd away. The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps ; Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore, 205 And bathes the forest where she rang'd before. In her chaste current oft the Goddess laves, And with celestial tears augments the waves. Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies The headlong mountains and the downward skies, The watry landskip of the pendant woods, 211 And absent trees that tremble in the floods;

In

200

Ver. 205. Still bears the name] The River Loddon, VER. 209. Oft in her glafs, etc.] These fix lines were added after the first writing of this poem. P.

IMITATIONS.
Ver. 191, 194.

Sol erat a tergo: vidi precedere langam
Ante pedes umbram : nifi fi timor illa videbat,
Sed certe fonituque pedum terrebar ; et ingens
Crinales vittas affabat anhelitus oris,

220

In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,
And floating forests paint the waves with green,
Thro' the fair scene roll flow the ling'ring streams,
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.

· Thou too, great father of the British floods !
With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ;
Where tow'ring oaks their growing honours rear,
And future navies on thy shores appear,
Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives
A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives.
No seas so rich, fo gay no banks appear,
No lake fo gentle, and no fpring fo clear.
Nor Po so swells the fabling Poet's lays, 225
While led along the skies his current strays,
As thine, which visits Windsor's fam'd abodes,
To grace the manfion of our earthly Gods:
Nor all his stars above a lustre show,
Like the bright Beauties on thy banks below; 230
Where Jove, fubdu'd by mortal Passion still,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.

Happy the man whom this bright Court approves, His Sov’reign favours, and his Country loves :

Happy
VARIATIONS.
Ver. 231. It stood thus in the MS.

And force great Jove, if Jove's a lover still,
To change Olympus, etc,

VER. 233.

Happy the man, who to the shades retires,
But doubly happy, if the Mufe inspires !
Bleft whom the sweets of home-felt quiet please ;
But far more bleft, who study joins with ease. P.

Happy next him, who to these shades retires, 235 Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse in

spires; Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, Succesive study, exercise, and ease. He gathers health from herbs the forest yields, And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields: 240 With chymic art exalts the min'ral pow'rs, And draws the aromatic fouls of flow'rs: Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high; O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his

eye; Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,

245
Consults the dead, and lives paft ages o'er:
Or wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wise and good,
T'observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow nature, and regard his end; 250
Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal

eyes,
Bids his free foul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confess her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd,

255 Thus Atticus, and TRUMBAL thus retir’d.

Ye sacred Nine! that all my foul poffess,
Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,
Bear me, oh bear me to sequefter’d scenes,
The bow'ry mazes, and surrounding greens : 260
To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,
Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's Hill.

(On
IMITATIONS.
Ver. 249, 50. Servare modum finemque tenere,
Naturamque sequi.

Lucr.
VER. 259. O qui me gelidis, etc. Virg.

(On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, While lalts the mountain, or while Thames thall

flow) I seem thro' confecrated walks to rove, 265 I hear soft music die along the grove : Led by the found, I roam from shade to shade, By god-like Poets venerable made: Here his first lays majestic DENHAM sung ; There the last numbers flow'd from COWLEY'S

tongue. O early lost ! what tears the river fhed, 272 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.

Since fate relentlefs stop'd their heav'nly voice, No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;

276 Who now shall charm the shades, where COWLEY

strung His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?

But

Ver. 270. There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue) Mr. Cowley died at Chertsey, on the borders of the forest, and was from thence convey'd to Westminfter. P.

VARIATIONS,
Ver. 265. It stood thus in the MS.

Methinks around your holy scenes I rove,
And hear your music echoing thro' the grove:
With transport visit each inspiring shade
By God-like Pocts venerable made.

VER. 273

What fighs, what murmurs fill'd the vocal shore !
His tuneful swans were heard to fing no more. P.

But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings !
Are these reviv'd ? or is it GRANVILLE fings? 280
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats

3
To paint anew the flow'ry sylvan scenes,
To crown the forests with immortal greens,
Make Windfor-hills in lofty numbers rise,

285
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
To fing 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: 290 Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance: In the same shades the Cupids tun'd his lyre, To the fame notes, of love, and soft defire : Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow, 295 Then fill’d the groves, as heav'nly Mira now.

Oh would'st thou sing what Heroes Windfor bore, What Kings first breath'd upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriours, whose ador'd remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains !

With

Ver. 289. Here noble Surrey] Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, one of the first refiners of the English poetry ; who flourish'd in the time of Henry VIII. P.

VARIATIONS. Ver. 288. ber filver far] All the lines that follow were not added to the poem tillathe year 1710.. What immediately followed this, and made the Conclusion, were these,

My humble Mufe in unambitious strains
Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains ;

Where

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