Imatges de pÓgina
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406

groves

The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
And Phæbus warm the ripening ore to gold.
The time shall come, when free as seas or wind 395
Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And feas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's diftant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.

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Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people croud my wealthy fide,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire !
Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
'Till Conquest cease, and slav'ry be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves,
Peru once more a race of Kings behold,
And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.

410 Exild by thee from earth to deepest hell, In brazen bonds shall barb'rous Discord dwell : Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, And mad Ambition, shall attend her there : There purple Vengeance bath'a in gore retires, 415 Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires : There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel, And Persecution mourn her broken wheel : There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain, And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.

420 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 recité, And bring the scenes of opening fate to light. My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,

425 Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains, Where Peacè descending bids her olives spring, And scàtters blessings from her dove-like wing. Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days, Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise; 430 Enough for me, that to the list’ning swains First in these fields I sung the fylvan strains.

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ST. CECILIA’s Day.

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I.
ye Nine! descend and fing;
The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into yoice each filent string,
And sweep the founding lyre !

In a sadly-pleasing strain
Let the warbling lute complain :

Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around

The shrill echoes rebound :
While in more lengthen'd notes and Now,
The deep, majestic, folemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers soft and clear,
Gently steal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rise,

And fill with spreading sounds the skies;
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
In broken air, treinbling, the wild music floats;
'Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away, In a dying, dying fall.

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II.
By Music, minds an equal temper know,

Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, afsuasive voice applies;

Or when the soul is press'd with cares,

Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
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 snakes;
Intestine war 'no more our Passions

wage, And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

III.
But when our Country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms !
So when the first bold vessel dar'd the feas,
High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain,

While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.

Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the found,

Enrlam'd with glory's charms :
Each chief his fev’nfold fhield display'd,
And half unsheath'd the shining blade :
And feas, and rocks, and skies rebound

To arms, to arms, to arms!

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IV.

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But when thro' all th' infernal bounds
Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds,

Love, strong as Death, the Poet led

To the pale nations of the dead,
What sounds were heard,
What scenes appear’d,

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O'er

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