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Pope's "Windsor Forest.'



Tay forests, Windsor ! and thy green retreats, At once the monarch's and the muse's seats, Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids ! Unlock your springs, and open all your shades. Granville commands ; — your aid, O muses, bring !What muse for Granville can refuse to sing !

The groves of Eden, vanished now so long, Live in description, and look green in song : These, were my breast inspired with equal flame, Like them in beauty, should be like in fame. Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water, seem to strive again ; Not, chaos-like, together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused : Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree. Here waving groves a checkered scene display, And part admit and part exclude the day ; As some coy nymph her lover's warm address Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress : There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades : Here, in full light the russet plains extend : There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills ascend. Even the wild heath displays her purple dyes ; And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise, That, crowned with tufted trees and fringing corn, Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn. Let India boast her plants, nor envy we The weeping amber or the balmy tree, While by our oaks the precious loads are borne, And realms commanded which those trees adorn.

And kings more furious and severe than they ; Who claimed the skies, dispeopled air and floods,

The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods : ! Cities laid waste, they stormed the dens and caves

For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.
What could be free, when lawless beasts obeyed,
And even the elements a tyrant swayed ?

In vain kind seasons swelled the teeming grain, | Soft showers distilled, and suns grew warm in vain ;

The swain with tears his frustrate labor yields,


What wonder, then, a beast or subject slain Were equal crimes in a despotic reign ? Both, doomed alike, for sportive tyrants bled ; But while the subject starved, the beast was fed. Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began ; A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : Our haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name, And makes his trembling slaves the royal game.

The fields are ravished from the industrious swains; | From men their cities, and from gods their fanes : 1

The levelled towns with weeds lie covered o'er ;
The hollow winds through naked temples roar ;
Round broken columns clasping ivy twined ;
O'er heaps of ruins stalked the stately hind ;
The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires ;
And savage howlings fill the sacred quires.
Awed by his nobles, by his commons curst,
The oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst;
Stretched o'er the poor and church his iron rod,
And served alike his vassals and his God.
Whom even the Saxon spared, and bloody Dane,
The wanton victims of his sport remain.

the man who spacious regions gave
A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave!
Stretched on the lawn, his second hope survey,
At once the chaser, and at once the prey :
Lo! Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
Bloeds in the forest, like a wounded hart.



But see,

Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, Though gods assembled grace his towering height, Than what more humble mountains offer here, Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear. See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crowned ; Here blushing Flora paints the enamelled ground; Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And, nodding, tempt the joyful reaper's hand ; Rich industry sits smiling on the plains, And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.

GRADUAL CULTIVATION - LIBERTY. Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects' cries, Nor saw displeased the peaceful cottage rise. Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed ; O’er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread ;


Not thus the land appeared in ages past, A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste ; To savage beasts and savage laws a prey ;

1 William the Conqueror, though he had sixty-eight royal forests, laid waste a vast tract in Hampshire, filled with vil. lages and churches, for the New Forest. Windsor Forest was a part of this. His sons Richard and Rufus were killed there while hunting.

The forests wondered at the unusual grain,
And secret transport touched the conscious swain.
Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears
Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years.

The silver eel, in shining volumes rolled,
The yellow carp, in scales bedropped with gold,
Swift trouts diversified with crimson stains,
And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains.


SNARING PARTRIDGES; SOLDIERS ; PHEASANT. Ye vigorous swains ! while youth ferments your And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, [blood, Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net When milder Autumn Summer's heat succeeds, And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds, Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds, Panting with hope, he tries the furrowed grounds ; But when the tainted gales the game betray, Couched close he lies, and meditates the prey : Secure, they trust the unfaithful field beset, Till, hovering o'er 'em, sweeps the swelling net. Thus (if small things we may with great compare) When Albion sends her eager sons to war, Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty blest, Near and more near the closing lines invest ; Sudden they seize the amazed, defenceless prize, And high in air Britannia's standard flies.

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts, exulting, on triumphant wings : Short is his joy ; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah ! what avails his glossy varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes ! The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold !

Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car : The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. The impatient courser pants in every vein, And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : Hills, vales, and floods appear already crossed, And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep, Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep. Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed ; And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, The immortal huntress, and her virgin-train ; Nor envy, Windsor, since thy shades have seen As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen : Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign ; The earth's fair light, and empress of the main.



Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky, The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny. To plains with well-breathed beagles we repair, And trace the mazes of the circling hare Beasts, urged by us, their fellow-beasts pursue, And learn of man each other to undo : With slaughtering guns the unwearied fowler roves, When frosts have whitened all the naked groves, Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade, And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye ; Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky : Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death : Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.


GOD PAN. Here too, 't is sung, of old Diana strayed, And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade ; Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grore; Here, armed with silver bows, in early dawn, Her buskined virgins traced the dewy lawn.

Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona named Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast, Tho Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last. Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known, But by the crescent, and the golden zone. She scorned the praise of beauty, and the care ; A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair : A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds, And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. It chanced, as, eager of the chase, the maid Beyond the forest's vordant limits strayed, Pan saw and loved ; and, burning with desire, Pursued her flight; her flight increased his fire.


In genial Spring, beneath the quivering shade, Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead, The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand : With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed. Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch, with fins of Tyrian dye,


Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce cagle cleaves the liquid sky ; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, [doves, When through the clouds he drives the trembling As from the god she flew with furious pace, Or as the god, more furious, urged the chase. Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears ; Now, close behind, his sounding steps she hears ; And now his shadow reached her as she run, His shadow lengthened by the setting sun ; And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.

Let me,

O let me,

In vain on father Thames she calls for aid,
Nor could Diana help her injured maid. (vain ;
Faint, breathless, thus she prayed, nor prayed in
• Ah Cynthia ! ah!- though banished from thy train,

to the shades repair,
My native shades there weep, and murmur there.'
She said, and melting as in tears she lay,
In a soft silver stream dissolved away.
The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
Forever murmurs, and forever weeps ;
Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,
And bathes the forest where she ranged before.

Attends the duties of the wise and good,
To observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow nature, and regard his end ;
Or looks on heaven with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confess her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admired ;
Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus, retired.

THE RIVER LODOXA (LODDON) DESCRIBED. In her chaste current oft the goddess laves, And with celestial tears augments the waves. Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies The headlong mountains and the downward skies ; The watery landscape of the pendent woods, And absent trees that tremble in the floods ; In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, And floating forests paint the waves with green ; Through the fair soene roll slow the lingering

streams, Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.


Ye sacred Nine ! that all my soul possess, Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, Bear me, 0 bear me to sequestered scenes, The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens ; To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill, Or where ye, Muses, sport on Cooper's Hill.On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall I seem through consecrated walks to rove, [flow.I hear soft music die along the grove : Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade, By godlike poets venerable made : Here his first lays majestic Denham sung ; There the last numbers flowed from Cowley's tongue. 0, early lost! what tears the river shed When the sad pomp along his banks was led ! His drooping swans on every note expire, And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre.

Since fate relentless stopped their heavenly voice, No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice ; Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?

PRAISE OF THE RIVER THAMES. Thou, too, great father of the British floods ! With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ; Where towering oaks their growing honors rear, And future navies on thy shores appear, Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear ; Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays, While led along the skies his current strays, As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes, To grace the mansion of our earthly gods : Nor all his stars above a lustre show, Like the bright beauties on thy banks below; Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still, Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.



THE HERBALIST, ASTRONOMER, SCHOLAR, SAGE. Happy the man whom this bright court approves, His sovereign favors, and his country loves : Happy next him, who to these shades retires, Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires : Whom humble joys of home-felt quiet please, Successive study, exercise, and ease. He gathers health from herbs the forest yields, And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields : With chemic art exalts the mineral powers, And draws the aromatic souls of flowers : Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high, O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye ; Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store, Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er : Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood,

But, hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings !
Are these revived ? or is it Granville sings ?
'T is yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient seats ;
To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,
To crown the forests with immortal greens,
Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise,
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies ;
To sing those honors you deserve to wear,
And add new lustre to her silver star.

Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage,
Surrey the Granville of a former age :
Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance,
Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance :
In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre,
To the same notes, of love and soft desire :
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
Then filled the groves as heavenly Mira now.



0, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breathed upon her winding shore ; Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallowed earth contains !

Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of

gold, From heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows, And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; These now no more shall be the Muses' themes, Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine, And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine ; Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train ; Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign ! No more my sons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood : Safe on my shore, each unmolested swain Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain ; The shady empire shall retain no trace Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase ; The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown, And arms employed on birds and beasts alone. Behold! the ascending villas on my side Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide. Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase, And temples rise, the beauteous works of peace. I see, I see, where two fair cities bend Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend ! There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, The world's great oracle in times to come ; There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen Once more to bend before a British queen.

With Edward's acts adorn the shining page,
Stretch his long triumphs down through every age :
Draw monarchs chained, and Cressi's glorious field,
The lilies blazing on the regal shield :
Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colors fall,
And leave inanimate the naked wall,
Still in thy song should vanquished France appear,
And bleed forever under Britain's spear.

Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And palms eternal flourish round his urn.
Here o'er the Martyr King the marble weeps,
And fast, beside him, once-feared Edward sleeps :
Whom not the extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main,
The grave unites ; where e'en the great find rest,
And blended lie the oppressor and the oppressed !

Make sacred Charles's tomb forever known
Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone :-
O, fact accursed ! what tears has Albion shed !
Heavens, what new wounds ! — and how her old

have bled ! She saw her sons with purple deaths expire, Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire, A dreadful series of intestine wars, Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars. At length great Anna said, 'Let discord cease!' She said, the world obeyed, and all was peace ! THE GLORIES OF QUEEN ANNE'S REIGN. — THAMES, ITS RIVERS ;


In that blest moment, from his oozy bed,
Old father Thames advanced his reverend head ;
His tresses dropped with dews, and o'er the stream
His shining horns diffused a golden gleam :
Graved on his urn appeared the moon, that guides
His swelling waters and alternate tides ;
The figured streams in waves of silver rolled,
And on her banks Augusta rose in gold ;
Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
Who swelled with tributary urns his flood !
First, the famed authors of his ancient name,
The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame :
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renowned ;
The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crowned ;
Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave ;
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave :
transparent Vandalis

appears ;
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears ;
And sullen Mole that hides his diving flood ;
And silent Darent, stained with Danish blood.

High in the midst, upon his urn reclined
His sea-green mantle waving with the wind -
The god appeared : he turned his azure eyes
Where Windsor domes and pompous turrets rise !
Then bowed, and spoke ; the winds forgot to roar,
And the hushed waves glide softly to the shore.

ISH WARS; LONDON AND ITS BUILDINGS ; THE ARTS. Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise !


ISH NAVIGATION. Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their

woods, And half thy forests rush into the floods, Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, To the bright regions of the rising day : Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole : Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales ! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow; The coral redden, and the ruby glow. The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold. The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind, Unbounded Thames sball flow for all mankind; Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And seas but join the regions they divide ; Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, And the new world launch forth to seek the old.

The blue,


PERU ; MEXICO ; PACIFIO INFLUENCE OF BRITAIN. Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, And feathered people crowd my wealthy side, And naked youths and painted chiefs admire Our speech, our color, and our strange attire ! O stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to

shore, Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more !

Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves !
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roofed with gold !
Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell :
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition, shall attend her there :
There purple Vengeance, bathed in gore, retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires :
There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel,
And Persecution mourn her broken wheel :
There Faction roar,

Rebellion bite her chain,
And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.

Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallowed

Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days :
The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light :
My humble muse,

in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forests and the flowery plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Even I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise ;
Enough for me, that to the listening swains
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.

Tusser's “August's Husbandry.'

* * Tury fallowl once ended, go strike by and by The mowing of barley, if barley do stand,
Both wheat land and barley, and so let it lie ; Is cheapest and best, for to rid out of hand :
And as ye have leisure, go compass the same, Some mow it, and rake it, and set it on cocks,
When up ye do lay it, more fruitful to frame. Some mow it, and bind it, and set it on shocks. *
Get down with thy brakes, 2 ere an' showers do come, Corn 1 being had down (any way ye allow),
That cattle the better may pasture have some.

Should wither as needeth, for burning in mow;
Pan saffron between the two St. Mary's days, 3 Such skill appertaineth to harvest man's art,
Or set, or go shift it, that knoweth the ways. And taken in time is a husbandly part. **
Maids, mustard-seed gather, fore being too ripe, If weather be fair, and tidy thy grain,
And weather it well, ere ye give it a stripe :

Make speedily carriage, for fear of a rain ; Then dress it and lay it in soller 4 up sweet,

For tempest and showers deceiveth a many, Lest foistiness make it for table unmeet.

And lingering lubbers lose many a penny. Good huswives in summer will save their own seeds, In going at harvest, learn skilfully how Against the next year, as occasion needs :

Each grain for to lay by itself on a mow : One seed with another, to make an exchange, Seed-barley, the purest, gove out of the way ; With fellowly neighborhood, seemcth not strange.

All other nigh hand, gove as just as ye may. Make suér of reapers, get harvest in hand,

Corn carried, let such as be poor go and glean, The corn that is ripe doth but shed as it stand : And, after, thy cattle, to mouth it up clean ; Be thankful to God, for his benefits sent,

Then spare it for rowen till Michel be past, And willing to save it, with earnest intent. * * To lengthen thy dairy, no better thou hast. Reap well, scatter not, gather clean that is shorn, In harvest-time, harvest-folks, servants and all, Bind fast, shock apace, have an eye to thy corn ;

Should make, all together, good cheer in the hall ; Load safe, carry home, follow time being fair,

And fill out the black bowl of blythe to their song, Gove 5 just in the barn, it is out of despair.

And let them be merry all harvest-time long. Tithe duly and truly, with hearty good will,

Once ended thy harvest, let none be beguiled, That God and his blessing may dwell with thee Please such as did help thee man, woman, and still;

child ; Though parson neglecteth his duty for this, Thus doing, with alway such help as they can, Thank thou thy Lord God, and give every man bis.** Thou winnest the praise of the laboring man. 1 After thry-fallowing (third ploughing) it is best to harrow

Now look up to God-ward, let tongue never cease, (strike) the land, to root up weeds, before manure (compas), In thanking of Him for his mighty increase : which would nourish them, is applied. · Ferns, or brakes, constitute a light firing, in Norfolk,

Accept my good will — for a proof go and try ; England ; if cut early, the tender grass is allowed to spring The better thou thrivest, the gladder am I. * * up for additional feed. 3 July 22 and Aug. 15. 4 Soller is an upper room.

1 Corn in England means small grain, particularly wheat; 6 To gove is to make a mow.

in Scotland, oats ; in the United States, maize.

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