Here o'er the Martyr-King the marble weeps, And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps: Whom not th' extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main, The Grave unites; where ev'n the Great find rest, And blended lie th' oppreffor and th' opprest!
Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known (Obscure the place, and uninfcrib'd the stone);329 Oh fact accurs'd! what tears has Albion shed,
Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled! She saw her fons with purple deaths expire, Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire, A dreadful series of intestine wars,
Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.
At length great Anna faid, -" Let Discord cease!" She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace!
In that blest 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 sacrilegious brood,
Sworn to Rebellion, principled
Since that dire morn what tears has Albion shed!
Gods! what new wounds, &c.
Ver. 327. Thus in the MS,
Till Anna rose, and bade the Furies cease;
Let there be peace-she said, and all was Peace, Between verse 330 and 331, originally stood these lines : From shore to shore exulting shouts he heard, O'er all his banks a lambent light appear'd, With sparkling flames heaven's glowing concave shone, Fictitious stars, and glories not her own.
His treffes drop'd with dews, and o'er the stream His shining horns diffus'd a golden gleam : Grav'd on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides His swelling waters, and alternate tides; The figur'd streams in waves of filver roll'd, And on their banks Augusta rofe in gold, Around his throne the fea-born brothers stood Who swell with tributary urns his flood ! First the fam'd authors of his ancient name, The winding Isis, and the fruitful Thame : The Kennet swift, for filver eels renown'd; The Loddon flow with verdant alders crown'd; Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave; And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; The gulphy Lee his sedgy tresses rears; And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood; And filent Darent, stain'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 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!
He faw, and gently rose above the stream; His shining horns diffuse a golden gleam : With pearl and gold his towery front was drest, The tributes of the distant East and West.
Though Tyber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold, From heaven itself the seven-fold Nilus flows,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; These now no more shall be the Muse's themes, Loft in my fame, as in the fea 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 fons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's fands, 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 chace;
The trumpet sleep, 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! Augusta's glittering spires increase, And Temples rife, the beauteous works of Peace. I fee, I fee, where two fair cities bend
Their ample bow, a new Whitehall afcend !
Ver. 363. Originally thus in the MS.
Let Venice boast her Towers amidst the Main, Where the rough Adrian fwells and roars in vain, Here not a Town, but spacious Realm shall have A fure foundation on the rolling wave.
There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, The world's great oracle in times to come; There Kings shall sue, and suppliant States be seen Once more to bend before a British Queen.
Thy trees, fair Windfor! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into thy floods; Bear Britain's Thunder, and her Cross display, To the bright regions of the rifing day : Tempt icy seas, 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 spicy gales! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly shell its lucid globe unfold,
And Phœbus warm the ripening ore to gold. The time shall come, when free as feas or wind Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind, Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And feas but join the regions they divide; Earth's distant ends our glory shall 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,
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 hifling axle in th' Atlantic deeps : Tempt icy feas, &c.
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire Our fpeech, our colour, and our strange attire! Oh, stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore, Till Conqueft cease, and Slavery be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable 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, shall barbarous Difcord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, And mad Ambition, shall 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 gasping 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 Muse, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forests and the flowery plains, Where Peace defcending bids her olive spring, And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days, Pleas'd in the filent shade with empty praise; Enough for me, that to the listening swains First in these fields I fung the sylvan strains.
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