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But, hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
Are these revived, or is it Granville sings?
'Tis yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats;
To paint anew the flowery 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 honors 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 tuned his lyre, 295 To the same notes, of love and soft desire: Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow, Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now.


O, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breathed upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains! With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, Stretch his long triumphs down through every age,

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.'-Warton.

291 Here noble Surrey. Henry Howard, earl of Surrey, one of the first refiners of the English poetry; who florished in the time of Henry VIII.-Pope.

303 Edward's acts. Edward III., the builder of Windsorcastle; a man of great political talents, which only gave vigor to his tyranny; a conqueror, who scourged France, nearly to




Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressy's glorious


The lilies blazing on the regal shield:

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



Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear,
And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal florish round his urn.
Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps,
And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps:
Whom not the extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main,
The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest,
And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd!


the ruin of England; a statesman, closing an unexampled course of popular supremacy in popular scorn; and a king, who after a reign of fifty-one years of uncontested power, left his country the tremendous legacy of the York and Lancastrian


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307 Verrio's colors. An Italian decorator of ceilings and staircases. Walpole keenly remarks, that Verrio's pencil was always ready to pour out gods and goddesses, kings and triumphs, over those public surfaces, on which the eye never rests long enough to criticise, and where one would be sorry to place the works of a better master.'

311 Ill-fated Henry. Henry VI., the founder of Eton college, and builder of the chapel of King's-college, Cambridge.

314 Once-fear'd Edward. Edward IV., a brilliant profligate, whom nothing but his pleasures could have kept from the throne of France, and nothing but his talents could have kept on the throne of England.

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316 Old Belerium. The Land's End, called by geographers Promontorium Bolericum;' by Diodorus Siculus, 'Belerium.' Cornish imagination has there buried its patriarchal giant, Bellerus:

Sleepst by the fable of Bellerus old.

Lycidas, v. 160.

Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known, Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone. 320 O, fact accursed! what tears has Albion shed! Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!


She saw her sons with purple death expire,
Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of intestine wars,
Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars.
At length, great Anna said, 'Let discord cease!'
She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace!

319 Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known. The tomb of the murdered monarch has been since made known,' by an examination in the presence of his late majesty, George IV., when regent: the features were perfect, and the countenance still resembled the melancholy beauty of the pictures. The death of that king ought to be a warning for ever, not only of the national guilt, but of the political fruitlessness, of regicide. The liberty of England was slain on the scaffold of the unhappy Charles: the vigorous despotism of Cromwell, and the effeminate despotism of Charles II., were the penalty of a revolution of blood: the free monarchy of William, and the manly prosperity of the Brunswick line, were the fruit of a revolution of reason.

327 Let discord cease. A letter of Prior to Bolingbroke from Paris, 1713, says of the medal which was struck on the peace of Utrecht :-'I dislike your medal with the motto

Compositis venerantur armis.

I will have one of my own design; the queen's bust surrounded with laurel, and with the motto



Peace in a triumphal car, and with the words,

Pax missa per orbem.

This is ancient, this is simple, this is sense.' He might have added, it was confused, obsolete, and common-place. The letter is given by Warton, from the duchess of Portland.


In that bless'd moment, from his oozy Old father Thames advanced his reverend head; His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the



His shining horns diffused a golden gleam ;
Graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His swelling waters, and alternate tides;

The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd, 335
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 famed 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 flowery islands


And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears;
The gulfy Lea 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 reclined, His sea-green mantle waving with the wind, 350 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 :Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise ! 356 Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,

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From heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;- 360
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 squadrons shine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine;
Let barbarous 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
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase;
The trumpet sleep while cheerful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold the ascending villas on my side
Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide;
Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase,
And temples rise, the beauteous works of peace.
see, I see, where two fair cities bend




Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend! 380

376 And temples rise. The fifty new churches.-Pope.


380 A new Whitehall. The splendid fragment of Whitehallpalace, which exists as the banqueting-room, has excited perpetual lamentations that the design was not completed : yet Walpole, an incomparable critic on all writings, characters, and buildings, but his own, throws strong doubt on its probable excellence. Several plates of the intended new palace of Whitehall,' says he, have been given, but I believe from no finished design of Inigo Jones. ***** The strange kind of cherubims on the towers at the end are preposterous ornaments; and, whether of Inigo or not, bear no relation to the rest. The great towers in the front are too near, and evidently borrowed from what he had seen in Gothic, not in

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