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The pearly fhell its lucid globe infold,
And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.
The time fhall come, when free as feas or wind
Unbounded Thames fhall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each fwelling tide,
And feas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's distant ends our glory fhall behold,
And the new world launch forth to feek the old.
Then fhips of uncouth form fhall ftem the tide,
And feather'd people croud my wealthy fide,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Our speech, our colour, and our ftrange attire!

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Oh ftretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to fhore, 'Till Conqueft cease, and flav'ry be no more;

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'Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their fable loves,
Peru once more a race of Kings behold,
And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.
Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds fhall barb'rous Difcord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition, shall attend her there :
There purple Vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:
There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel,
And Perfecution mourn her broken wheel:
There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
And gafping Furies thirft for blood in vain.

Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
The thoughts of Gods let Granville's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.
My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forefts and the flow'ry plains,
Where Peace defcending bids her olives fpring,
And scatters bleffings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pafs my careless days,
Pleas'd in the filent fhade with empty praise;
Enough for me, that to the lift'ning fwains
Firft in these fields I fung the fylvan ftrains.

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O DE FOR

ON

MUSIC

ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

I.

Defcend ye Nine! defcend and fing;

The breathing inftruments inspire,
Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the founding lyre!
In a fadly-pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet found,
'Till the roofs all around

The fhrifl echoes rebound:

While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majeftic, folemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers foft and clear,

Gently fteal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rife,

And fill with spreading founds the skies;

Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes,

In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats;

'Till, by degrees, remote and small,

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The ftrains decay,

And melt away,

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II.

II.

By Mufic, minds an equal temper know,
Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arife,
Mufic her foft, affuafive voice applies;

Or when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors fhe fires with animated founds

;

Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:

Melancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouzes from his bed,

Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes; Inteftine war no more our Paffions wage, And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

III.

But when our Country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warms!

So when the firft bold veffel dar'd the feas,

High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his ftrain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods ftood round,

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And men grew heroes at the found,
Enlam'd with glory's charms:

Each chief his fev'nfold fhield display'd, '

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And half unfheath'd the fhining blade:

And feas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms!

IV.

But when thro' all th' infernal bounds

Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,

Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led
To the pale nations of the dead,
What founds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,

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