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While fhe the wond'ring fhepherd entertains
With a new Windfor in her watʼry plains;
Thy jufter lays the lucid wave surpass,
The living scene is in the Mufe's glass.
Nor fweeter notes the echoing Forefts chear,
When Philomela fits and warbles there,

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Than when you fing the greens and op'ning glades,
And give us Harmony as well as Shades:
A Titian's hand might draw the grove, but you
Can paint the grove, and add the Music too.

With vast variety thy pages fhine;
A new creation starts in ev'ry line.
How fudden trees rife to the reader's fight,
And make a doubtful fcene of fhade and light,
And give at once the day, at once the night!
And here again what fweet confufion reigns,
In dreary deferts mix'd with painted plains!
And fee! the deferts caft a pleafing gloom,
And fhrubby heaths rejoice in purple bloom:
Whilft fruitful crops rife by their barren fide,
And bearded groves difplay their annual pride.

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Happy the man, who ftrings his tuneful lyre, Where woods, and brooks, and breathing fields infpire!

Thrice happy you! and worthy best to dwell 45 Amidst the rural joys you fing fo well.

I in a cold, and in a barren clime,

Cold as my thought, and barren as my rhyme,
Here on the Western beach attempt to chime.
O joyless flood! O rough tempeftuous main!
Border'd with weeds, and folitudes obfcene!
VOL. I.

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Snatch me, ye Gods! from thefe Atlantic fhores, And shelter me in Windfor's fragrant bow'rs; Or to my much-lov'd Ifis' walks convey, And on her flow'ry banks for ever lay. Thence let me view the venerable scene, The awful dome, the groves eternal green: Where facred Hough long found his fam'd retreat, And brought the Mufes to the sylvan feat, Reform'd the wits, unlock'd the Claffic ftore, 60 And made that Mufic which was noife before. There with illuftrious Bards I spent my days, Nor free from cenfure, nor unknown to praise, Enjoy'd the bleffings that his reign bestow'd, Nor envy'd Windfor in the foft abode. The golden minutes fmoothly danc'd away, And tuneful Bards beguil'd the tedious day: They fung, nor fung in vain, with numbers fir'd That Maro taught, or Addison infpir'd.

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Ev'n I effay'd to touch the trembling ftring:
Who could hear them, and not attempt to fing?
Rouz'd from thefe dreams by thy commanding
ftrain,

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I rife and wander thro' the field or plain;
Led by thy Mufe from fport to sport I run,
Mark the ftretch'd Line or hear the thund'ring gun.
Ah! how I melt with pity, when I fpy
On the cold earth the flutt'ring Pheafant lie;
His gaudy robes in dazling lines appear,
And ev'ry feather fhines and varies there.
Nor can I pass the gen'rous courfer by,
But while the prancing fteed allures my eye,
He starts, he's gone! and now I fee him fly

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O'er h
hills and dales, and now I lose the course,
Nor can the rapid fight purfue the flying horse.
Oh could thy Virgil from his orb look down,
He'd view a courfer that might match his own!
Fir'd with the fport, and eager for the chace,
Lodona's murmurs ftop me in the race.
Who can refufe Lodona's melting tale?
The foft complaint thall over time prevail;
The Tale be told, when fhades forfake her fhore,
The Nymph be fung, when she can flow no more.

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Nor fhall thy fong, old Thames! forbear to shine, At once the fubject and the fong divine. Peace, fung by thee, fhall please ev'n Britons more Than all their fhouts for Victory before.

Oh! could Britannia imitate thy ftream,

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The World fhould tremble at her awful name:
From various fprings divided waters glide,
In diff'rent colours roll a diff'rent tide,
Murmur along their crooked banks a-while,
At once they murmur and enrich the Ifle;
A-while diftinct thro' many channels run,
But meet at laft, and fweetly flow in one:
There joy to lose their long-diftinguifh'd names, 105
And make one glorious, and immortal Thames.

FR, KNAPP.

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Of old affembled in the Thespian fhades; What theme, they cry'd, what high inmortal air, Befit thefe harps to found, and thee to hear? Reply'd the God; "Your loftieft notes employ, "To fing young Peleus, and the fall of Troy." The wond'rous fong with rapture they rehearse; Then afk who wrought that miracle of verfe? He anfwer'd with a frown; "I now reveal "A truth, that Envy bids me not conceal: Retiring frequent to this Laureat vale, "I warbled to the Lyre that fav'rite tale,

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Which, unobferv'd, a wand'ring Greek and blind,

"Heard me repeat, and treasur'd in his mind;

And fir'd with thirft of more than mortal praise, "From me, the God of Wit, ufurp'd the bays.

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"But let vain Greece indulge her growing fame, "Proud with celeftial fpoils to grace her name; "Yet when my Arts fhall triumph in the Weft, "And the white Ifle with female pow'r is bleft; 20 "Fame, I forefee, will make reprisals there, "And the Tranflator's Palm to me transfer.

With lets regret my claim I now decline, "The World will think his English Iliad mine." E. FENTON.

To Mr. POPE.

O praife, and ftill with juft refpect to praise Tard triumphant in immortal bays,

The Learn'd to fhow, the Sensible commend,
Yer ftill preserve the province of the Friend;
What life, what vigour must the lines require?
What Mufic tune them, what Affection fire?

O might thy Genius in my bofom shine;
Thou should't not fail of numbers worthy thine;
The brightest Ancients might at once agree
To fing within my lays, and fing of thee.

Horace himfelf would own thou doft excell

In candid arts to play the Critic well,
Ovid himself might wish to fing the Daine
Whom Windsor Foreft fees a gliding stream:
On filver feet, with annual Ofier crown'd,
She runs for ever thro' Poetic ground.

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How flame the glories of Belinda's Hair,
Made by thy Muse the envy of the Fair?
Lefs fhone the treffes Egypt's princefs wore,
Which sweet Callimachus so sung before.
Here courtly trifles fet the world at odds;
Belles war with Beaux, and Whims defcend for Gods.
The new Machines, in names of ridicule,
Mock the grave phrenzy of the Chemic fool.

But know, ye Fair, a point conceal'd with art, 25
The Sylphs and Gnomes are but a Woman's heart.
The Graces ftand in fight; a Satire-train
Peeps o'er their head, and laughs behind the scene.

In Fame's fair Temple, o'er the boldest wits
Infhrin'd on high the facred Virgil fits;

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