« السابقةمتابعة »
To the Right Honourable GEORGE Lord LANSDOWN.
HY forests, Windfor! and thy green re
At once the Monarch's and the Muse's feats, Invite my lays. Be present fylvan 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, vanilh'd now so long, Live in description, and look green in song: These, were my breast inspir'd 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 crush'd and bruis'd,
But as the world, harmoniously confus'd:
Where order in variety we see,
And where, tho' all things differ, all agree.
Here waving groves a checquer'd scene display,
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As fome coy nymph her lover's warm address
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
There, interspers'd in lawns and opening glades,
Thin trees arise that shun each others shades.
Here in full light the rufset plains extend;
There wrapt in clouds the blueish hills ascend:
Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise,
That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,
Like verdant ifles the fable 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 born,
And realms commanded which those trees adorn.
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler fight,
Tho' Gods assembled grace his tow'ring height,
Than what more humble mountains offer here,
Where, in their blessings, all those Gods appear.
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd,
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamelld ground,
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect ftand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand,
Rich industry fits smiling on the plains,
And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.
Not thus the land appear'd in ages paft,
A dreary defert and a gloomy waste,
To savage beasts and * savage laws a prey,
And Kings more furious and severe than they:
Who claim'd the fkies, dispeopled air and floods,
The lonely Lords of empty wilds and woods.
Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves,
(For wifer brutes were backward to be slaves.)
What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd,
And ev’n the elements a tyrant sway'd ?
In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming grain,
Soft show'rs distill’d, and suns grew warm in vain;
The swain with tears to beasts his labour yields,
And familh'd dies amidst his ripen’d fields.
No wonder favages or subjects slain
Were equal crimes in a despotic reign,
Both doom'd alike for sportive tyrants bled,
But subjects ftarv'd while savages were fed.
Proud Nimrod first the bloody chace began,
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
Our haughty Norman boasts that barb'rous name,
And makes his trembling flaves the royal game.
Thet fields are ravilh'd from th' industrious swains,
From men their cities, and from Gods their fanes:
The levelld towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
The hollow winds thro' naked temples roar;
Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd;
O’er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind;
The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires,
And wolves with howling fill the sacred quires.
Aw'd by his Nobles, by his Commons curst,
Th’ oppressor ruld tyrannick where he durst,
Stretch'd o'er the Poor, and Church, his iron rad,
And treats alike his vassals and his God.
Whom ev'n the Saxon spar'd, and bloody Dane,
The wanton victims of his sport remain.
But see the man who spacious regions gave
A waste for beasts, himself deny'd a grave!
† Alluding to the new foreft, and the tyrannies exercis'd thereby William I