Nor all the talks of thoughtful peace engage, 'Tis thine to form the hero as the fage.
I fee the fable-fuited prince advance
With lilies crown'd, the spoils of bleeding France,
Edward. The Muses in yon cloister's shade
Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade :
Bade him the steel for British freedom draw,
And Oxford taught the deeds that Creffy faw. 210
And fee, great father of the facred band,
The Patriot King before me seems to stand.
He by the bloom of this gay vale beguil'd,
That chear'd with lively green the fhaggy wild,
Hither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid,
215
The Mufe in prattling infancy convey'd ;
From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore,
And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore:
Soon grew the maid beneath his fostering hand,
Soon ftream'd her bleffings o'er the enlighten'd land.
Though fimple was the dome, where firft to dwell
She deign'd, and rude her early Saxon cell,
Lo! now she holds her ftate in fculptur'd bowers,
And proudly lifts to heaven her hundred towers,
'Twas Alfred first, with letters and with laws, 225
Adorn'd, as he advanc'd, his country's cause :
He bade relent the Briton's ftubborn foul,
And footh'd to foft fociety's controul
A rough untutor'd age. With raptur'd eye
Elate he views his laurel'd progeny :
Serene he fmiles to find, that not in vain
He form'd the rudiments of Learning's reign:
Himself he marks in each ingenuous breast,
With all the founder in the race exprest:
Conscious he fees, fair Freedom ftill furvive 235
In yon bright domes, ill-fated fugitive!
(Glorious, as when the goddess pour'd the beam
Unfullied on his ancient diadem ;)
Well pleas'd, that at his own Pierian springs
She refts her weary feet, and plumes her wings; 240
That here at laft fhe takes her deftin'd ftand,
Here deigns to linger, ere fhe leave the land.
WRITTEN IN WHICHWOOD FOREST.
THE hinds how bleft, who ne'er beguil'd
To quit their hamlet's hawthorn-wild ;
Nor haunt the croud, nor tempt the main,
For fplendid care, and guilty gain!
When morning's twilight-tinctur'd beam
Strikes their low thatch with flanting gleam,
VOL. II.
They rove abroad in ether blue,
To dip the scythe in fragrant dew :
The fheaf to bind, the beech to fell
That nodding fhades a craggy dell.
Midft gloomy glades, in warbles clear,
Wild nature's fweeteft notes they hear:
On green untrodden banks they view
The hyacinth's neglected hue:
In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds,
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds:
And startle from her ashen spray,
Acrofs the glen, the screaming jay:
Each native charm their steps explore
Of Solitude's fequefter'd store.
For them the moon with cloudless ray
Mounts, to illume their homeward
Their weary spirits to relieve,
The meadows incenfe breathe at eve.
No riot mars the simple fare
That o'er a glimmering hearth they share:"
But when the curfeu's measur'd roar
Duly, the darkening vallies o'er,
Has echoed from the diftant town,
They with no beds of cygnet-down,
No trophied canopies, to close
Their drooping eyes in quick repose.
Their little fons, who spread the bloom
Of health around the clay-built room,
Or through the primros'd coppice ftray,
Or gambol in the new-mown hay;
Or quaintly braid the cowflip-twine,
Or drive afield the tardy kine;
Or haften from the fultry hill
To loiter at the fhady rill;
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest
To rob the raven's antient neft.
Their humble porch with honied flowers
The curling woodbine's fhade embowers:
From the trim garden's thymy mound
Their bees in busy swarms refound:
Nor fell Disease, before his time,
Haftes to confume life's golden prime:
But when their temples long have wore
The filver crown of treffes hoar;
As ftudious still calm peace to keep;
Beneath a flowery turf they fleep.
Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes, pictaque volucres.
THE Queen of CONTEMPLATION, Night,
Begins her balmy reign;
Advancing in their varied light
Her filver-vested train.
'Tis ftrange, the many marshal'd stars ;
That ride yon facred round,
Should keep, among their rapid cars,
A filence fo profound!
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