For funny Florence, feat of art,

Beneath her vines preferv'd a part,

Till they, whom science lov'd to name,
(O who could fear it?) quench'd her flame.

And lo, an humbler relic laid
In jealous Pifa's olive fhade!

See fmall Marino joins the theme,
Tho' leaft, not laft in thy esteem;
Strike, louder ftrike th' ennobling ftrings
To thofe, whofe merchant fons were kings;
To him, who, deck'd with pearly pride,
In Adria weds his green-hair'd bride:
Hail port of glory, wealth, and pleasure,
Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure:
Nor e'er her former pride relate,
To fad Liguria's bleeding state.

Ah no! more pleas'd thy haunts I feek,
On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak:
(Where, when the favour'd of thy choice,
The daring archer heard thy voice;

Forth

Forth from his eyrie rous'd in dread,
The ravening Eagle northward fled.)

Or dwell in willow'd meads more near,

*

With those to whom thy Stork is dear:

Those whom the rod of Alva bruis'd,

Whofe crown a British queen refus'd,
The magic works, thou feel'ft the strains,
One holier name alone remains;
The perfect spell fhall then avail,

Hail Nymph, ador'd by Britain, hail!

ANTISTROPHE.

Beyond the measure vaft of thought,
The works, the wizzard Time has wrought!

*The Dutch, amongst whom there are very fevere penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are faid to entertain a fuperftitious fentiment, that if the whole fpecies of them fhould become extin&t, they should lofe their liberties.

The

The Gaul, 'tis held of antique ftory,

Saw Britain link'd to his now adverfe firand*,

No fea between, nor cliff fublime and hoary,

He pafs'd with unwet feet thro' all our land.
To the blown Baltic then, they fay,

The wild waves found another away,

Where Orcas howls, his wolfish mountains round

Till all the banded weft at once 'gan rise, [ing, A wide wild form even Nature's felf confounding,

Withering her giant fons with strange uncouth

furprise.

This pillar'd earth fo firm and wide,

By winds and inward labours torn,

In thunders dread was push'd afide,

And down the shouldering billows born.

* This tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalifts too have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact, by arguments drawn from the correfpondent difpofition of the two oppofite coafts. I don't remember that any poetical ufe has been hitherto made of it.

And

And fee, like gems, her laughing train,

The little ifles on every fide,

Mona*, once hid from those who search the main,
Where thousand Elfin shapes abide,

And Wight who checks the westering tide,
For thee confenting heaven has each bestow'd,
A fair attendant on her fovereign pride :
To thee this bleft divorce fhe ow'd, [abode!
For thou haft made her vales thy lov'd, thy lat

SECOND EPODE.

Then too, 'tis faid, an hoary pile, 'Midft the green navel of our ifle,

* There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and opened her paffion to him, but was received with a coldnefs, occafioned by his horror and fur. prize at her appearance, This however was fo mifconftrued by the fea lady, that in revenge for his treatment of her, fhe punished the whole ifland, by covering it with a mist, fo that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the fea, or were on a fudden wrecked upon its cliffs.

Thy

Thy fhrine in fome religious wood,
O foul-enforcing Goddefs, ftood!

There oft the painted native's feet
Were wont thy form celeftial meet:
Tho' now with hopeless toil we trace,
Time's backward rolls, to find its place
Whether the fiery-treffed Dane,

Or Roman's felf o'erturn'd the fane,
Or in what heaven-left age it fell,
"Twere hard for modern fong to tell.

Yet ftill, if truth those beams infuse,
Which guide at once, and charm the Muse,
Beyond yon braided clouds that lie,

Paving the light embroider'd fky:

Amidst the bright pavilion'd plains,
The beauteous model ftill remains.
There happier than in islands bleft,

Or bowers by Spring or Hebe dreft,

The chiefs who fill our Albion's ftory,
In warlike weeds, retir'd in glory,

3

Hear