The fields are ravish'd from th' industrious swains,
From men their cities, and from Gods their fanes :
The level'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
The hollow winds through naked temples roar;
Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd;
O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind;
The fox obfcene to gaping tombs retires,
And favage howlings fill the facred quires.
Aw'd by his Nobles, by his Commons curst,
Th' Oppreffor rul'd tyrannic where he durst,
Stretch'd o'er the Poor and Church his iron rod,
And ferv'd alike his Vaffals and his God.
Whom ev'n the Saxon fpar'd, and bloody Dane,
The wanton victims of his sport remain,
But fee, the man who fpacious regions gave
A wafte for beafts, himself deny'd a grave!
Stretch'd on the lawn his fecond hope furvey,
At once the chacer, and at once the prey:
Lo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart.
Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects cries,
Nor faw difpleas'd the peaceful cottage rife.
Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed,
O'er fandy wilds were yellow harvests spread,
The forests wonder'd at th' unusual grain,
And fecret transport touch'd the confcious swain.
Ver. 72. And wolves with howling fill, &c.] The Author thought this an error, wolves not being common in England at the time of the Conqueror.
Fair Liberty, Britannia's Goddess, rears
Her chearful head, and leads the golden years.
Ye vigorous fwains! while youth ferments your blood, And purer fpirits fwell the sprightly flood,
Now range the hills, the gameful woods befet,
Wind the fhrill horn, or fpread the waving net.
When milder autumn fummer's heat fucceeds,
And in the new-fhorn field the partridge feeds,
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds; 100
But when the tainted gales the game betray,
Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey:
Secure they truft th' unfaithful field beset,
Till hovering o'er them fweeps the swelling net.
Thus (if fmall things we may with great compare) 105
When Albion fends her eager fons to war,
Oh may no more a foreign mafter's
With wrongs yet legal, curse a future age!
Still fpread, fair Liberty! thy heav'nly wings,
Breathe plenty on the fields, and fragrance on the springs,
When yellow autumn fummer's heat fucceeds,
And into wine the purple harveft bleeds,
The partridge feeding in the new-fhorn fields,
Both morning fports and ev'ning pleasure yields.
Ver. 107. It stood thus in the first edition:
Pleas'd, in the General's fight, the host lie down
Sudden before fome unfufpecting town;
The young, the old, one inftant makes our prize,
And o'er their captive heads Britannia's standard fies,
Some thoughtless Town, with eafe and plenty blest,
Near and more near, the clofing lines invest;
Sudden they feize th' amaz'd, defenceless prize,
And high in air Britannia's ftandard flies.
See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings :
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground,
Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dies,
His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes,
The vivid green his fhining plumes unfold,
His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky,
The woods and fields their pleafing toils deny.
To plains with well-breath'd beagles we repair,
And trace the mazes of the circling hare
(Beafts, urg'd by us, their fellow beasts pursue,
And learn of man each other to undo):
With flaughtering guns th' unweary'd fowler roves, 125
When frofts have whiten'd all the naked groves;
Where doves in flocks the leaflefs trees o'erfhade,
And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade.
He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye;
Strait a fhort thunder breaks the frozen sky:
Oft, as in airy rings they fkim the heath,
The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death:
Ver. 126. O'er ruftling leaves around the naked groves. Ver. 129. The fowler lifts his level'd tube on high.
Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare,
They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
In genial spring, beneath the quivering fhade,
Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his filent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand :
With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
Our plenteous ftreams a various race fupply,
The bright-ey'd perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
The filver eel, in fhirfing volumes roll'd,
The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold,
Swift trouts, diversify'd with crimson stains,
And pykes, the tyrants of the watery plains.
Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car:
The youth rufh eager to the fylvan war,
Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks furround,
Rouze the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 150
Th' impatient courfer pants in every vein,
And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain:
Hills, vales, and floods, appear already crofs'd,
And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are loft.
See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep,
Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,
Hang o'er their courfers heads with eager speed,
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin-train;
Nor envy, Windfor! fince thy fhades have seen
As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a QUEEN;
Whofe care, like her's, protects the fylvan reign,
The Earth's fair light, and Emprefs of the main.
Here, too, 'tis fung, of old Diana stray'd,
And Cynthus' top forfook for Windsor shade;
Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove,
Seek the clear fpring, or haunt the pathless grove;
Here arm'd with filver bows, in early dawn,
Her buskin'd Virgins trac'd the dewy lawn.
Above the reft a rural nymph was fam'd,
Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona nam'd
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
The Muse shall fing, and what the fings shall last).
Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph be known,
But by the crefcent, and the golden zone.
She fcorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care;
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair;
A painted quiver on her fhoulder founds,
And with her dart the flying deer she wounds.
It chanc'd, as, eager of the chace, the maid
Beyond the foreft's verdant limits stray'd,
Pan faw and lov'd, and burning with defire
Pursued her flight, her flight increas'd his fire.
Not half fo fwift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half fo fwiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves;
As from the God fhe flew with furious pace,
Or as the God, more furious, urg'd the chace.
Now fainting, finking, pale, the nymph appears ;
Now close behind, his founding fteps she hears;
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