Go, view the fplendid domes of Greenwich, go; And own what raptures from Reflection flow. 160 Hail, noblest structures imag'd in the wave! A nation's grateful tribute to the brave. Hail, bleft retreats from war and shipwreck, hail! That oft arreft the wondering ftranger's fail. ye heard the narratives of age, 165 Long have Long have ye known Reflection's genial ray Gild the calm close of Valour's various day. Time's fombrous touches foon correct the piece, Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease: 170 A fofter tone of light pervades the whole, And steals a penfive languor o'er the foul. Haft thou thro' Eden's wild-wood vales pursued 21 Each mountain-fcene, magnificently rude; To mark the sweet fimplicity of life, 175 Far from the din of Folly's idle strife: Nor, with Attention's lifted eye, rever'd That modest stone which pious PEMBROKE rear'd; The filent forrows of a parting hour; Still to the mufing pilgrim points the place, Her fainted fpirit moft delights to trace? 180 Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride, 22 O'er his dead fon old ORMOND nobly figh'd. Thus, thro' the gloom of SHENSTONE's fairy grove, MARIA'S urn ftill breathes the voice of love. 186 E And with a brother's warmth, a brother's fmile, 195 The stranger greets each native of his ifle ; So fcenes of life, when present and confeft, Stamp but their bolder features on the breast; However trivial, and however rude, But wins the heart, and wakes the focial figh, With every claim of clofe affinity! 200 But these pure joys the world can never know; In gentler climes their filver currents flow. Oft at the filent, fhadowy close of day, 205 When the hufh'd grove has fung its parting lay; When penfive Twilight, in her dusky car, Comes flowly on to meet the evening-star ; Above, below, aërial murmurs fwell, 209 From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell! A thousand nameless rills, that fhun the light, Once, and domestic annals tell the time, (Preferv'd in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) 220 When Nature fmil'd, and o'er the landscape threw The rocky pafs half hung with fhaggy wood, High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose, 23 225 And blew his fhrill blast o'er perennial snows; When the rapt youth, recoiling from the roar, Gaz'd on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar ; Each ofier ifle, inverted on the wave, eye. Thro' morn's gray mift its melting colours gave; 24 231 |