Though Tyber's streams immortal Rome behold,
Though foaming Hermus fwells with tides of gold,
From heaven itself the seven-fold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;
These now no more fhall be the Mufe's themes,
Loft in my fame, as in the sea their streams.

Let Volga's banks with iron fquadrons shine,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
Let barbarous Ganges arm a fervile train;
Be mine the bleffings of a peaceful reign.
No more my fons shall dye with British blood
Red Iber's fands, or Ifter's foaming flood:

Safe on my shore each unmolested swain

Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;
The fhady empire shall retain no trace

Of war or blood, but in the fylvan chace;

The trumpet fleep, while chearful horns are blown,
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
Behold! th' afcending villas on my fide,

Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide.

Behold! Augufta's glittering fpires increase,

And Temples rife, the beauteous works of Peace.

I fee, I fee, where two fair cities bend

Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend!

360

365

370

375

380

There

VARIATION.

Ver. 363. Originally thus in the MS.

Let Venice boaft her Towers amidft the Main,
Where the rough Adrian fwells and roars in vain;
Here not a Town, but fpacious Realm fhall have
A fure foundation on the rolling waye.

There mighty nations shall inquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;
There Kings fhall sue, and suppliant States be seen
Once more to bend before a British Queen.

Thy trees, fair Windfor! now fhall leave their woods, And half thy forefts rush into thy floods Bear Britain's Thunder, and her Cross display, To the bright regions of the rising day :

Tempt icy feas, where scarce the waters roll,

Where clearer flames glow round the frozen Pole; 390 Or under fouthern skies exalt their fails,

Led by new stars, and borne by fpicy gales!

For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,

The pearly shell its lucid globe unfold,

395

And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.

The time shall 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 ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy fide,

VARIATION.

Ver. 385, &c. were originally thus in the MS.
Now shall our fleets the bloody Cross display
To the rich regions of the rifing day,

Or those green ifles, where headlong Titan fteeps
His hiffing axle in th' Atlantic deeps:
Tempt icy feas, &c.

400

And

And naked youths and painted chiefs admire

Our speech, our colour, and our fstrange attire!

405

Oh, ftretch thy reign, fair Peace! from fhore to fhore, Till Conqueft-cease, and Slavery be no more;

Till the freed Indians in their native groves

Reap their own fruits, and woo their fable loves; 410 Peru once more a race of Kings behold,

And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.

Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,

In brazen bonds, fhall barbarous Difcord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition, fhall 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 thirst 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 Mufe, in unambitious ftrains,
Paints the green forefts and the flowery plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olive spring,
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 listening fwains
First in these fields I fung the fylvan strains.

415

420

426

430

- ODE

4

O DE

ΟΝ

ST. CECILIA'S DAY,

MDCC VIII.

AND OTHER PIECES FOR MUSIC.