Where western gales eternally reside, Immortal glories in my mind revive, An Amphitheatre's amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight! Whole rivers here, forsake the fields below; Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires, And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires : Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, And softened into flesh the rugged stone! In solemn silence, a majestic band, Heroes, and Gods, and Roman Consuls, stand. Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And Emperors, in Parian marble frown; While the bright Dames, to whom they humbly sued, Still show the charms that their proud hearts subdued. Fain would I RAPHAEL'S Godlike art rehearse; And show th' immortal labours in my Verse! Where, from the mingled strength of shade and light, A new creation rises to my sight! Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, Here, pleasing Airs my ravished soul confound With circling notes and labyrinths of sound! Here, Domes and Temples rise in distant views; And opening Palaces invite my Muse! How has kind Heaven adorned the happy land; And scattered blessings with a wasteful hand! But what avail her unexhausted stores, Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores; With all the gifts that Heaven and Earth impart, The smiles of Nature, and the charms of Art; While proud Oppression in her valleys reigns, And Tyranny usurps her happy plains? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The redd'ning orange and the swelling grain; O, LIBERTY! thou Goddess heavenly bright! Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign; And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton Train! Eased of her load, Subjection grows more light; And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight! Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay; Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day! Thee, Goddess! Thee, BRITANNIA'S Isle adores ! How has she oft exhausted all her stores! How oft, in Fields of Death, thy presence sought; Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! On foreign mountains may the sun refine The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine! With citron groves adorn a distant soil; And the fat olive swell with floods of oil! We envy not the warmer clime that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent skies; Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine, Though o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine: 'Tis Liberty that crowns BRITANNIA'S Isle, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile! Others with tow'ring Piles may please the sight; And in their proud aspiring Domes delight! A nicer touch to the stretched canvas give; 'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate; And hold in balance each contending State! To threaten bold presumptuous Kings with war; And answer her afflicted neighbours' prayer! The Dane and Swede, roused up by fierce alarms, Bless the wise conduct of her pious Arms! Soon as her Fleets appear, their terrors cease; And all the Northern World lies hushed in peace! Th' ambitious Gaul beholds, with secret dread, Her thunder aimed at his aspiring head; And fain her Godlike sons would disunite By foreign gold, or by domestic spite : But strives in vain to conquer, or divide; Whom NASSAU's Arms defend, and counsels guide! Fired with the name, while I so oft have found The distant climes and different tongues resound, I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain! That longs to launch into a bolder strain. But I've already troubled you too long; Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous Song; My humble Verse demands a softer theme, A painted meadow, or a purling stream! Unfit for Heroes! whom immortal Lays, And lines like VIRGIL'S, or like yours, should praise! SONGS FROM ROSAMOND BENEATH Some hoary mountain, Where feathered quires combining O, THE pleasing, pleasing anguish ! Charms transporting! Joys ensuing! O, the pleasing, pleasing anguish ! IF 'tis joy to wound a Lover, |