In whom the fplendor of heroic war, And more heroic peace, when govern'd well Combine; whofe hallow'd name the virtues faint, And bis own Muses love; the best of Kings ! With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys thine, Names dear to fame; the first who deep imprefs'd On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, That awes her genius ftill. In Statesmen thou, And patriots, fertile. Thine a fteady More, Who, with a generous tho' mistaken zeal, Withstood a brutal tyrant's ufeful rage, Like Cato firm, like Ariftides juft, Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor,
A dauntless foul erect, who fmil'd on death. Frugal and wife, a Walfingham is thine;
A Drake, who made the miftrefs of the deep, 1485 And bore thy name in thunder round the world. Then flam'd thy fpirit high: but who can speak The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign? In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd; Raleigh, the fcourge of Spain! whofe breaft with all The fage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. Nor funk his vigour, when a coward-reign The warrior fettered, and at laft refign'd, To glut the vengeance of a vanquish'd foe. Then, active ftill and unreftrain'd, his mind 1495 Explor'd the vaft extent of ages paft,
And with his prifon-hours enrich'd the world; Yet found no times in all the long research,
Se glorious, or fo base, as those he prov'd,
In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. 1500 Nor can the Mufe the gallant Sidney pass, The plume of war! with early laurels crown'd, The Lover's myrtle, and the Poet's bay. A Hampden too is thine, illuftrious land,
Wife, ftrenuous, firm, of unfubmitting foul, 1505 Who ftem'd the torrent of a downward age To flavery prone, and bade thee rise again, In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. Bright, at his call, thy Age of Men effulg'd, Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye 1510 Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read.
Bring every fweeteft flower, and let me ftrew The grave where Ruffel lies; whofe temper'd blood, With calmeft chearful efs for thee refign'd, Stain'd the fad annals of a giddy reign; Aiming at lawless power, tho' meanly funk In loofe inglorious luxury. With him His friend, the British Caffius, fearless bled; Of high determin'd fpirit, roughly brave, By ancient learning to th' enlighten'd love
Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown In awful Sages and in noble Bards;
Soon as the light of dawning Science fpread Her orient ray, and wak'd the Mufe's fong. Thine is a Bacon, hapless in his choice Unfit to ftand the civil ftorm of state, And thro' the fmooth barbarity of courts, With firm but pliant virtue, forward ftill
To urge his courfe. Him from the ftudious fhade Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehenfive, clear, Exact, and elegant; in one rich foul,
Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd.
The great deliverer he! who from the gloom Of cloifter'd monks, and jargon teaching schools, Led forth the true philofophy, there long Held in the magic chain of words and forms, And definitions void: he led her forth, Daughter of Heav'n! that flow afcending ftill, Investigating fure the chain of things,
With radiant finger points to Heaven again. 1540 The generous † Afhley thine, the friend of Man; Who fkann'd his Nature with a brother's eye, His weakness prompt to fhade, to raise his aim, To touch the finer movements of the mind, And with the moral beauty charm the heart. Why need I name thy Boyle, whofe pious fearch Amid the dark receffes of his works, The great Creator fought? And why thy Locke, Who made the whole internal world his own? Let Newton, pure Intelligence, whom Go
↑ Anthony Afbley Cooper, Earl of Shastsbury.
To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works From laws fublimely fimple, fpeak thy fame In all Philofophy. For lofty fenfe, Creative fancy, and inspection keen
Thro' the dark windings of the human heart, 1555 Is not wild Shakespear thine and Nature's boaft? Is not each great, each amiable Mufe
Of claffic ages in thy Milton met! A genius univerfal as his theme ; Astonishing as Chaos, as the bloom
Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven fublime. Nor fhall my verfe that elder bard forget, The gentle Spencer, Fancy's pleafing fon; Who like a copious river, pour'd his fong O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground: Nor thee, his ancient Master, laughing fage, Chaucer, whofe native manners-painting verfe, Well-moralized, fhines thro' the Gothic cloud Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown. May my fong foften, as thy Daughters 1, 1570 Britannia, hail! for beauty is their own, The feeling heart, fimplicity of life,
And elegance, and tafte: the faultlefs form, Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek, Where the live crimson, thro' the native white Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom And every nameless grace; the parted lip, Like the red rofe-bud moift with morning dew, Breathing delight; and, underflowing jet, Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown,
The neck flight-fhaded, and the swelling breast; The look refiftlefs, piercing to the foul, And by the foul inform'd, when drest in love She
e fits high-fmiling in the confcious eye. Ifland of blifs! amid the fubject feas, That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, At once the wonder, terror, and delight, Of difant nations; whofe remoteft fhores Can foon be fhaken by thy naval arm; Not to be fhook thyfelf, but all affaults Baffling, as the hoar cliffs the loud fea-wave. O Thou! by whose almighty Nod the scale
Of empire rifes, or alternate falls, Send forth the faving virtues round the land, In bright patrol: white Peace, and focial Love ; The tender-looking Charity, intent
1596 On gentle deeds, and thedding tears thro' fmiles; Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;
Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance, Healthful in heart and look; clear Chastity, 1600 With blushes reddening as the moves along, Disordered at the deep regard the draws; Rough Industry; Activity untir'd,
With copious life inform'd, and all awake: While in the radiant front, fuperior fhines That firft paternal virtue, Publie Zealz Who throws o'er all an equal wide furvey, And, ever mufing on the common weal, Still labours glorious with fome great defign. 160g Low walks the fun, and broadens by degrees, Juft o'er the verge of day. The thifting clouds Affembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, In all their pomp attend his fetting throne. Air, earth and ocean fmile immenfe. And now, As if his weary chariot fought the bowers Of Amphitrite, and her tenymphs, (So Grecian fable fung) he dips his orb; Now half-immers'd; and now a golden curve Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.
For ever running an enchanted round, Paffes the day, deceitful, vain, and void; As fleets the vifion o'er the formful brain, This moment hurrying wild th' impaffioned foul, The next in nothing loft. 'Tis fo to him, The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank: A fight of horror to the cruel wretch, Who all day long in fordid pleasure roll'd, Himfelf an ufelefs load, has fquander'd vile,
Upon his fcoundrel train, what might have cheer'd A drooping family of modeft worth.
But to the generous ftill-improving mind, That gives the hopeless heart to fing for joy, Diffufing kind benificence around,
Boattlefs, as now defcends the filent dew;
To him the long review of order'd life
Is inward rapture, only to be felt.
Confefs'd from yonder flow extinguish'd clouds, All ether foftening, fober Evening takes
Her wonted ftation in the middle air;,
A thousand fhadows at her beck. First this She fends on earth: then that of deeper dye Steals foft behind; and then a deeper still, In circle following circle, gathers round, To close the face of things. A frether gale Begins to wave the wood, and ftir the ftream, 1645 Sweeping with fhadowy guft the fields of corn; While the quail clamours for his running mate. Wide o'er the thiftly lawn, as fwells the breeze, A whitening fhower of vegetable down Amufive floats. The kind impartial care Of nature nought difdains: thoughtful to feed Her lowest fons, and clothe the coming year, From field to field the feather'd feed the wings.
His folded flock fecure, the thepherd home Hies, merry-hearted; and by turns relieves 1655 The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail; The beauty whom perhaps his witlefs heart, Unknowing what the joy-mixt anguish means, Sincerely loves, by that beft language fhewn Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. Onward they pass, o'er many a panting height, And valley funk, and unfrequented; where At fall of eve the fairy people throng, In various game and revelry to pafs The fummer-night, as village flories tell. But far about they wander from the grave Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg'd Against his own fad breast to lift the hand Of impious violence. The lonely tower
Is alfo fhunn'd; whofe mournful chambers hold, So night-ftruck fancy dreams, the yelling ghoft.
Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, The glow-worm lights his gem; and, thro' the dark, A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields The world to Night; not in her winter rebe Of madly Stygian woof, but loofe array'd-
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