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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,
Confults the dead, and lives past ages o'er:
Or wandering thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wife and good,
T'obferve a mean, be to himself a friend,



To follow nature, and regard his end;

Or looks on heaven with more than mortal eyes,

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Ye facred Nine! that all my foul poffefs,

Whofe raptures fire me, and whofe vifions blefs,
Bear me, oh bear me to fequefter'd scenes,
The bowery mazes, and furrounding 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 fhall flow):

I feem through consecrated walks to rove,

I hear foft mufic die along the grove:



Ver. 267. It ftood thus in the MS.

Methinks around your holy fcenes I rove,
And hear your mufic echoing through the grove:
With transport visit each inspiring shade
By God-like Poets venerable made.


Led by the found, I roam from shade to shade,
By god-like poets venerable made :

Here his first lays majestic Denham fung;


There the laft numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue. O early loft! what tears the river fhed,

When the fad pomp along his banks was led!

His drooping fwans on every note expire,
And on his willows hung each Mufe's lyre.
Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice,
No more the forefts ring, or groves rejoice;



Who now shall charm the shades, where Cowley ftrung
His living harp, and lofty Denham fung?
But hark! the groves rejoice, the foreft rings!
Are thefe reviv'd? or is it Granville fings!
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our foft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats;
To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,
To crown the forests with immortal greens,
Make Windfor hills in lofty numbers rise,
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
To fing thofe honours you deferve to wear,
And add new luftre to her filver star.





Ver. 275

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

Ver. 290. her filver ftar.] All the lines that follow were not added to the poem till the year 1710. What immediately followed this, and made the conclufion, were thefe,

My humble Mufe, in unambitious ftrains,
Paints the green forefts and the flowery plains;


Here noble Surrey felt the facred rage,
Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
Matchlefs his pen, victorious was his lance,
Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance :
In the fame fhades the Cupids tun'd his lyre,
To the fame notes, of love, and soft defire:
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now.


Oh would'st thou fing what heroes Windfor bore, What kings first breath'd upon her winding fhore, 300 Or raise old warriors, whofe ador'd remains

In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!
With Edward's acts adorn the fhining page,

Stretch his long triumphs down through every age,
Draw monarchs chain'd, and Creffi's glorious field, 305

The lilies blazing on the regal shield:

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 fpear.


Let fofter strains ill-fated Henry mourn, And palms eternal flourish round his urn.


Where I obfcurely pafs my careless days, Pleas'd in the filent shade with empty praise, Enough for me that to the listening fwains First in these fields I fung the fylvan strains. Ver. 307. Originally thus in the MS.


When Brafs decays, when Trophies lie o'erthrown, And mouldering into duft drops the proud stone.

Here o'er the Martyr-King the marble weeps,
And, faft befide him, once-fear'd Edward fleeps:
Whom not th' extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main,
The Grave unites; where ev'n the Great find reft,
And blended lie th' oppreffor and th' oppreft!



Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known
(Obfcure the place, and uninscrib'd the stone);
Oh fact accurs'd! what tears has Albion fhed,
Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!
She faw her fons with purple deaths expire,
Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of inteftine wars,
Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.

At length great Anna faid," Let Discord cease!"
She faid, the world obey'd, and all was peace!
In that bleft moment from his oozy bed

Old father Thames advanc'd his reverend head.





Ver. 321. Originally thus in the MS.

Oh fact accurs'd! oh facrilegious brood,
Sworn to Rebellion, principled in blood!

Since that dire morn what tears has Albion fhed!
Gods! what new wounds, &c.

Ver. 327. Thus in the MS.

Till Anna rofe, and bade the Furies cease;

Let there be peace-fhe faid, and all was Peace.

Between verfe 330 and 331, originally stood thefe lines:
From fhore to fhore exulting fhouts he heard,
O'er all his banks a lambent light appear'd,

With sparkling flames heaven's glowing concave fhone,
Fictitious ftars, and glories not her own.


His treffes drop'd with dews, and o'er the ftream
His fhining horns diffus'd a golden gleam :
Grav'd on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His fwelling waters, and alternate tides;
The figur'd ftreams in waves of filver roll'd,
And on their banks Augusta rose in gold,
Around his throne the fea-born brothers ftood
Who fwell with tributary urns his flood!
Firft the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
The winding Ifis, and the fruitful Thame :
The Kennet fwift, for filver eels renown'd ;
The Loddon flow with verdant alders crown'd;
Cole, whofe dark streams his flowery islands lave;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears;
The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffes rears;
And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danish blood.
High in the midft, upon his urn reclin❜d,
(His fea-green mantle waving with the wind)
The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes
Where Windfor-domes and pompous turrets rife!
Then bow'd, and spoke; the winds forget to roar,
And the hufh'd waves glide softly to the shore.
Hail, facred Peace! hail, long-expected days,
That Thames's glory to the stars fhall raise !


He faw, and gently rofe above the stream;
His fhining horns diffuse a golden gleam:
With pearl and gold his towery front was drest,
The tributes of the diftant East and Weft.







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