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Though taste, though genius, bless !
To some divine excess,
Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole ;

What each, what all supply,
May court, may charm, our eye;
Thou, only thou canst raise the meeting soul!

Of these let others ask,

To aid some mighty task,
I only seek to find thy temperate vale;
Where oft my reed might sound

To maids and shepherds round,
And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale!'



AS once.-if. not with light regard,

'I read aright that gifted bard,
-Him whose school above the rest
His loveliest elfin queen has blest;
One, only one, unrival'd * fair, ,
Might hope the magic girdle wear,
At solemn turney hung on high,
The wish of each love-darting eye;

-Lo! to each other nymphi, in turn, applied,

As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand,
Some chaste and angel-friend to virgin-fame,

With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band,


• Florimel. See Spenser Leg. 4th.

All the

It left unblest her loath'd dishonour'd side; .. ?
Happier hopeless Fair, if never

Her baffled hand with vain endeavour,
Had' touch'd that fatal zone to her denied !

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Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name,

To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven,
The cest of amplest power is given:
To few the godlike gifts assigns,

To gird their best prophetic loins,
And gaze her visions wild, and feel unmix'd her flame!

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The band, as fairy legends say,
Was wove on that creating day
When He, who call'd with thought to birth
Yon tented sky, this laughing earth,
And drest with springs and forests tall,
And pour'd the main engirting all,
Long by the lov'd enthusiast woo'd,
Himself in some diviner mood,
Retiring, sat with her alone,
And plac'd her on his sapphire throne;
The whiles, the vaulted shrine around,
Seraphic wires were heard to sound,
Now sublimest triumph 'swelling,
Now on love and mercy dwelling;
And she, from out the veiling cloud,
Breath'd her magic notes aloud :
And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn,
And all thy subject life was born!
The dangerous passions kept aloof,
Fair from the sainted growing woof:
But near it sat ecstatic Wonder,
Listening the deep applauding thunder ;
And Truth, in sunny vest array'd,
By whose the tarsel's eyes were made;

All the shadowy tribes of mind,
In braided dance, their murmurs join'd,
And all the bright uncounted powers
Who feed on heaven's ambrosial flowers.
-Where is the bard wlrose soul can now
Its high presuming hopes avow ?
Where he who thinks, with rapture blind,
This hallow'd work for him design'd?

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High on some cliff, to heaven up.pild,
Of rude access, of prospect wild, Ali
Where, tangled round the jealous steep,rol
Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep,
And holy Genii guard the rock,.'! :spinat ,
Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock,
While on its rich ambitious head,

': *
An Eden, like his own lies spread. I t is
I view that oak, the fancied glades among,
By which as Milton lay, his evening ear, ! . .
From many a cloud that dropp'd ethereal dew,
Nigh spherd in heaven, its native strains could hear;
On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung:

Thither oft, his glory greeting,

From Waller's myrtle shades retreating,
With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue,
My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue ;

In vain-Such bliss to one alone,
Of all the sons of soul, was known;
And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers,,

Have now o'erturn'd th’ inspiring bowers ; mi sit Or curtain'd close such scene froin ev'ry future view.

as known;

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1 YEAR 1746.

OW sleep the brave, who sink to rest,

By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould. She there shall dress a sweeter sod) Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

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By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,'
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ;
And Freedom shall a while repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there!



THOU, who sit'st a smiling bride

By valour's arm'd and awful side, Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best ador'd;

Who oft with songs, divine to hear,

Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear, And hid'st in wreaths of flow'rs his bloodless sword!

Thou who, amidst the deathtul field, By godlike chiefs alone beheld, Of with thy bosom bare art found, Pleading for him the youth who sinks to ground:

See, Morcy, see, with pure and loaded hands,

Before thy shrine my country's genius stands, And decks thy altar still, tho' pierc'd with many a wound! :


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I see recoil his sable steeds,

That bore him swift to savage deeds,
Thy tender melting eyes they own;
O maid, for all thy love to Britain shown,

Where Justice bars her iron tow'r,
To thee we build a roseate bow'r,
Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our

monarch's throne!



W HO shall awake the Spartan fife,

And call in solemn sounds to life,
The youths, whose locks divinely spreading,

Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue,
At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding,

Applauding Freedom loy'd of old to view

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