Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare,
They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his filent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand :
With looks unmov'd, he hopes the fcaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
Our plenteous ftreams a various race fupply,
The bright-ey'd perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
The filver eel, in fhining volumes roll'd,
The yellow carp, in fcales bedropp'd with gold,
Swift trouts, diversify'd with crimson stains,
And pykes, the tyrants of the watery plains.
Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car:
The youth rush eager to the fylvan war,
Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks furround,
Rouze the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 150
Th' impatient courfer pants in every vein,
And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain :
Hills, vales, and floods, appear already cross'd,
And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are loft.
See the bold youth strain up the threatening fteep, 255
Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,
Hang o'er their courfers heads with eager speed,
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin-train;
Nor
envy, Windfor! fince thy fhades have seen
As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a QUEEN;
Whofe care, like her's, protects the fylvan reign;
The Earth's fair light, and Empress of the main.
Here, too, 'tis fung, of old Diana stray'd,
And Cynthus' top forfook for Windfor fhade;
Here was the feen o'er airy wastes to rove,
Seek the clear fpring, or haunt the pathless grove;
Here arm'd with filver bows, in early dawn,
Her bufkin'd Virgins trac'd the dewy lawn.
Above the rest a rural nymph was fam'd,
Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona nam'd
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
The Mufe fhall fing, and what the fings fhall laft).
Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph be known,
But by the crefcent, and the golden zone.
She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care;
A belt her waift, a fillet binds her hair;
A painted quiver on her fhoulder founds,
And with her dart the flying deer she wounds.
It chanc'd, as, eager of the chace, the maid
Beyond the foreft's verdant limits stray'd,
Pan faw and lov'd, and burning with defire
Pursued her flight, her flight increas'd his fire.
Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half fo fwiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves ;
As from the God fhe flew with furious pace,
Or as the God, more furious, urg'd the chace.
Now fainting, finking, pale, the nymph appears;
Now close behind, his founding steps she hears;
And now his fhadow reach'd her as the run,
His fhadow lengthen'd by the fetting fun;
And now his shorter breath, with fultry air,
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
In vain on father Thames fhe calls for aid,
Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid.
Faint, breathless, thus fhe pray'd, nor pray'd in vain; "Ah, Cynthia! ah-though banish'd from thy train, 200 "Let me, O let me, to the shades repair,
"My native shades-there weep, and murmur there.”
She faid, and, melting as in tears the lay,
In a foft filver ftream diffolv'd away.
The filver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,
And bathes the forest where she rang'd before.
In her chafte current oft the Goddess laves,
And with celeftial tears augments the waves.
Oft in her glass the mufing fhepherd fpies
The headlong mountains and the downward skies,
The watery landskip of the pendant 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 scene roll flow the lingering ftreams,
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.
Thou, too, great father of the British floods!
With joyful pride furvey'ft our lofty woods;
Where towering oaks their growing honours rear,
And future navies on thy fhores appear,
F
Not Neptune's felf from all her streams receives
A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives.
gay-no banks appear,
No lake fo gentle, and no fpring fo clear.
Nor Po fo fwells the fabling Poet's lays,
While led along the skies his current strays,
As thine, which vifits Windfor's fam'd abodes,
To grace the mansion of our earthly Gods :
Nor all his ftars above a luftre fhow,
Like the bright Beauties on thy banks below;
Where Jove, fubdued by mortal paffion still,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
Happy the man whom this bright Court approves,
His Sovereign favours, and his Country loves:
Happy next him, who to these shades retires,
Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires;
Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please,
Succeffive ftudy, exercise, and ease.
He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
And of their fragrant phyfic spoils the fields:
With chemic arts exalt the mineral powers,
And draws the aromatic fouls of flowers:
Ver. 233. It flood thus in the MS.
And force great Jove, if Jove's a lover still,
To change Olympus, &c.
Happy the man, who to the shades retires,
But doubly happy, if the Muse inspires!
Bleft whom the fweets of home-felt quiet please;
But far more bleft, who study joins with ease.
Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
́O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Confults the dead, and lives paft ages o'er:
Or wandering thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wife and good,
T'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 foul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confess her home!
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd,
Thus Atticus, and Trumbal thus retir'd.
Ye facred Nine! that all my foul poffefs,
Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,
Bear me, oh bear me to fequefter'd scenes,
The bowery mazes, and furrounding greens;
To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,
Or where ye Mufes fport on Cooper's Hill
(On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow,
While lafts the mountain, or while Thames fhall flow):
I feem through confecrated walks to rove,
I hear foft mufic die along the grove:
Ver. 267. It food thus in the MS.
Methinks around your holy scenes I rove,
And hear your mufic echoing through the grove:
With transport vifit each inspiring fhade
By God-like Poets venerable made.
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