Hangs the armour Britons wore,
Rudely caft in days of yore.
Yon sword some heroe's arm might wield,
Red in the ranks of Chalgrave's field,
Where ever-glorious Hampden bled,
And Freedom tears of forrow fhed.
Or in the gallery let me walk,
Where living pictures feem to talk,
Where Beauty fmiles ferenely fair,
And Courage frowns with martial air;
Though whiskers quaint the face disguise,
And habits odd to modern eyes.
Behold what kings in Britain reign'd,
Plantagenets with blood diftain'd,
And valiant Tudor's haughty race,
And Stuarts, England's worft difgrace.
The Norman first, with cruel frown,
Proud of his new-ufurped crown,
Begins the lift; and many more,
Stern heroes form'd of roughest ore.
See victor Henry there advance,
Ev'n in his look he conquers France;
And murd'rer Richard, juftly flain
By Richmond's steel on Bosworth plain;
See the tyrant of his wives,
Prodigal of fairest lives,
And laureat Edward nurs'd in arts,
Minerva school'd his kingly parts :
But ah! the melancholy Jane,
A foul too tender for a queen!
She finks beneath imperial fway,
The dear-bought fcepter of a day!
And must fhe mount the fcaffold drear?
Hard-hearted Mary, learn to fpare!
Eliza next falutes the eye;
Exalt the fong to Liberty,
The Muse repeats the facred name,
Eliza fills the voice of fame.
From thence a baser age began,
The royal ore polluted ran,
"Till foreign Naffau's valiant hand
Chac'd holy tyrants from the land:
Downward from hence defcend apace
To Brunfwic's high, illuftrious race;
And see the canvass speaks them brave,
An injur'd nation born to fave,
Active in Freedom's righteous cause,
And confcious of a juft applaufe,
But chiefly pleas'd, the curious eye
With nice difcernment loves to try
The labour'd wonders, paffing thought,
Which warm Italian pencils wrought;
Fables of love, and ftories old,
By Greek or Latian poets told:
How Jove committed many a rape,
How young Acteon loft his shape;
Or what celeftial pen-men writ,
Or what the painter's genuine wit
From Fancy's ftore-house could devife;
Where Raphael claims the highest prize,
Madonas here decline the head,
With fond maternal pleafure fed,
Or lift their lucid eyes above,
Where more is seen than holy love,
There temples ftand display'd within,
And pillars in long order seen,
And roofs rush forward to the fight,
And lamps affect a living light.
Or landscapes tire the trav'ling eye,
The clouds in azure volumes fly,
The distant trees diftinguish'd rife,
And hills look little in the skies.
When day declines, and ev'ning cool
Begins her gentle, filent rule,
Again, as Fancy points the way,
Benignant leader, let me stray:
And wilt thou, Genius, bring along
(So fhall my Muse exalt her fong)
The Lord who rules this ample scene,
His Confort too with gracious mien,
Her little offspring prattling round,
While Echo lifps their infant found.
And let Good-nature, born to please,
Wait on our steps, and graceful Eafe ;-
Nor Mirth be wanting as we walk,
Nor Wit to season fober talk;
Let gay Description too attend,
And Fable told with moral end,
And Satire quick that comes by stealth,
And flowing Laughter, friend to Health,
Meanwhile Attention loves to mark
The deer that crop the shaven park,
The steep-brow'd hill, or foreft wild,
The floping lawns, and zephyrs mild,
The clouds that blush with ev'ning red,
Or meads with filver fountains fed,
The fragrance of the new-mown hay,
And black-bird chanting on the fpray ;
'The calm farewel of parting light,
And Ev'ning fad'ning into Night.
Nor wearied yet my roving feet,
Though Night comes on amain, retreat;
But ftill abroad I walk unfeen
Along the ftar-enlighten'd green;
Superior joys my foul invite,
Lift, lift to heav'n the dazzled fight.
Lo, where the moon enthron'd on high, Sits steady emprefs of the sky,
Enticing nations to revere,
And proudly vain of pagan fear;
Or where through clouds fhe travels faft,
And feems on journey bent in hafte,
While thousand hand-maid ftars await,
Attendant on their queen of state.
'Tis now that in her high controul,
Ambitious of a foreign rule,
She ftirs the Ocean to rebel,
And factious waters fond to fwell
Guides to battle in her car,
'Gainft her fifter Earth to war.
Thus let me mufe on things fublime,
Above the flight of modern rhyme,
And call the foul of Newton down,
Where it fits high on starry throne,
Inventing laws for worlds to come,
Or teaching comets how to roam :
With him I'd learn of every ftar,
But four-ey'd Pedantry be far,
And Ignorance in garb of Sense,
With terms of art to make pretence.
Hail, happy foil! illuftrious earth!
Which gav'ft so many heroes birth;
Which never wand'ring poet trod,
But felt within th' inspiring God!
In these transporting, folemn fhades,
Firft I falute th' Aonian maids.
Ah lead me, Genius, to thy haunts,
Where Philomel at ev'ning chants,
And as my oaten pipe resounds,
Give mufic to the forming founds.
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