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Unnumber'd beauties in the piece unite,
Rush on the eye, and croud upon
At once our wonder and delight you raise
We view with pleasure, and with rapture praise.
BY MISS WHATELY.
WOW genial Spring o'er lawn and grove
Extends her vivid power,
Now Phoebus fhines with mildest beams,
And wakes each fleeping flower.
Soft breezes fan the fmiling mead,
Kind dews refresh the plain;
While Beauty, Harmony, and Love,
Renew their chearful reign.
Now far from bufinefs let me fly,
Far from the crouded feat
Of Envy, Pageantry, and Power,
To fome obfcure retreat :
Where Plenty sheds with liberal hand
Her various bleffings round;
Where laughing Joy delighted roves,
And rofeate Health is found.
Give me to climb the mountain's brow,
When morn's first blushes rife ;
And view the fair extenfive scene
With Contemplation's eyes,
And while the raptur'd woodland choir
Pour forth their love-taught lays ;
I'll tune the grateful matțin song
To my Creator's praise.
He bade the folar orb advance
To chear the gloomy fky;
And at the gentle voice of Spring
Made hoary Winter fly.
He drefs'd the groves in fmiling green,
Unlock'd the ice-bound rill;
Bade Flora's pride adorn the vale,
And herbage crown the hill.
To that All-gracious Source of Light,
Let early incenfe rise,
While on Devotion's wing the foul
Afcends her native skies :
And when the rapid car of day
Illumes the farthest weft,
When Sleep diffolves the captive's chains,
And Anguifh finks to reft;
Then let me range the fhadowy lawn's,
When Vefper's filver light
Plays on the trembling ftreams, and gilds vei◄
When every earthly care's at reftoft chaild van, nyt >
And mufing Silence reigns ; Then active Fancy takes her fight Wide o'er th' etherial plains
URE there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnaffus, nor did tafte the stream
Of Helicon; we therefore may fuppofe
Those made not poets, but the
And as courts make not kings, but kings the court,
So where the Muses and their train refort,
Parnaffus ftands; if I can be to thee
A poet, thou Parnaffus art to me:
Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight,
By taking wing from thy aufpicious height)
Through untrac'd ways and airy paths I fly,
More boundless in my fancy than my eye;
My eye, which swift as thought contracts the space
That lies between, and first falutes the place
Crown'd with that facred pile, fo vast, so high,
That whether 'tis a part of earth, or fky,
Uncertain feems, and may be thought a proud
Afpiring mountain, or defcending cloud.
Paul's, the late theme of fuch a Mufe whose flight
Has bravely reach'd and foar'd above thy height:
Now fhalt thou ftand, tho' fword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall confpire,
Secure, whilft thee the best of poets fings,
Preferv'd from ruin by the beft of kings.
Under his proud furvey the city lies,
And like a mift beneath a hill doth rife;
Whose state and wealth, the business and the crowd,
Seems at this distance but a darker cloud;
And is to him who rightly things esteems,
No other in effect than what it feems:
Where, with like hafte, tho' fev'ral ways, they run,
Some to undo, and fome to be undone ;
While luxury and wealth, like war and peace,
Are each the others ruin, and increase;
As rivers loft in feas, fome fecret vein
Thence re-conveys, there to be loft again.
Oh, happiness of fweet retir'd content!
To be at once secure, and innocent.
Windfor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells,
Beauty with strength) above the valley fwells
Into my eye, and doth itself present
With fuch an eafy and unforc'd afcent,
That no ftupendous precipice denies
Access, no horror turns away our eyes
But fuch a rife, as doth at once invite
A pleasure and a reverence from the fight,
Thy mighty mafter's emblem, in whofe face
Sate meeknefs, heighten'd with majestick grace;
Such feems thy gentle height, made only proud
To be the bafis of that
Than which, a nobler weight no mountain bears,
But Atlas only which fupports the fpheres.
When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance
'Twas guided by a wifer pow'r than chance;
Mark'd out for fuch an use, as if 'twere meant
T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent.
Nor can we call it choice, when what we chufe,
Folly or blindnefs only cou'd refufe.
A crown of fuch majeftick tow'rs does grace
The gods great mother, when her heav'nly race
Do homage to her, yet fhe cannot boast
Among that num'rous, and celeftial host,
More heroes than can Windfor, nor doth fame's
Immortal book record more noble names.