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O early loft! what tears the river shed,
When the fad pomp along his banks was led?
His drooping fwans on ev'ry note expire,

And on his willows hung each Mufe's lyre.

Since fate relentless stop'd their heav'nly voice, 275 No more the forefts ring, or groves rejoice;

Who now fhall charm the fhades, where CowLEY ftrung

His living harp, and lofty DENHAM fung?

But hark! the groves rejoice, the foreft rings !
Are these reviv'd? or is it GRANVILLE fings! 280
'Tis yours, my Lord, to blefs our foft retreats,
And call the Muses to their ancient feats;
To paint anew the flow'ry sylvan scenes,
To crown the forefts with immortal greens,
Make Windfor-hills in lofty numbers rife,
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
To fing those honours you deserve to wear,
And add new luftre to her filver ftar.

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VARIATIONS.

With transport vifit each infpiring fhade
By God-like Poets venerable made.

VER. 273.

285

What fighs, what murmurs, fill'd the vocal fhore!

His tuneful fwans were heard to fing no more.

P.

VER. 288. her filver ftar.] All the lines that follow were not added to the poem till the year 1710. What

NOTES.

the foreft, and was from thence convey'd to Westminster.

P.

Here noble SURREY felt the facred rage, SURREY, the GRANVILLE of a former age: Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, Bold in the lifts, and graceful in the dance: In the fame fhades the Cupids tun'd his lyre, To the fame notes, of love, and soft defire: Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow, Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Mira now.

290

295

Oh would'st thou fing what heroes Windfor bore, What kings firft breath'd upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriours, whofe ador'd remains

In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains! 300 With Edward's acts adorn the fhining page,

Stretch his long triumphs down thro' ev'ry age, Draw monarchs chain'd, and Creffi's glorious field, The lilies blazing on the regal fhield:

VARIATIONS.

immediately followed this, and made the conclufion, were these,

My humble Mufe in unambitious strains

Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains;

Where I obfcurely pafs my careless days,
Pleas'd in the filent fhade with empty praise,

Enough for me that to the lift'ning fwains
Firft in these fields I fung the fylvan strains. P.

NOTES.

VER. 289 Here noble Surry] Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, one of the first refiners of the English poetry; who flourish'd in the time of Henry VIII. P.

VER. 301. Edward's acts] Edward III. born here. P.

Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall,
And leave inanimate the naked wall,

306

Still in thy fong fhould vanquifh'd France appear,

And bleed for ever under Britain's fpear.

Let fofter ftrains ill-fated Henry mourn,

And palms eternal flourish round his urn.
Here o'er the Martyr-King the marble weeps,
And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward fleeps:
Whom not th' extended Albion could contain,
From old Belerium to the northern main,

310

The grave unites; where ev'n the Great find reft,
And blended lie th' oppreffor and the oppreft! 316
Make facred Charles's tomb for ever known,
(Obscure the place, and un-infcrib'd the ftone)
Oh fact accurft! what tears has Albion shed,
Heav'ns, what new wounds! and how her old have

bled?

She faw her fons with purple death expire,
Her facred domes involv'd in rolling fire,

VARIATION S.

VER. 305. Originally thus in the MS.

320

When Brafs decays, when Trophies lie o'er-thrown,
And mould'ring into duft drops the proud flone.

VER. 319. Originally thus in the MS.

Oh fact accurft! oh facrilegious brood,

Sworn to Rebellion, principled in blood!

Since that dire morn what tears has Albion shed,

Gods! what new wounds, etc.

NOTES.

VER. 309. Henry mourn] Henry VI. P.

VER. 312. once-fear'd Edward fleeps:] Edward IV. P.

A dreadful series of inteftine wars,

Inglorious triumphs and difhoneft scars,

324
At length great ANNA faid- Let difcord ceafe!"
She faid, the world obey'd, and all was Peace!
In that bleft moment from his oozy bed
Old father Thames advanc'd his rev'rend head;
His treffes drop'd with dews, and o'er the stream
His fhining horns diffus'd a golden gleam; 330
Grav'd on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
His swelling waters, and alternate tides;

The figur'd ftreams in waves of filver roll'd,
And on her banks Augufta rose in gold.

Around his throne the fea-born brothers ftood, 335
Who fwell with tributary urns his flood!

First the fam'd authors of his ancient name,

The winding Ifis and the fruitful Tame:

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Till Anna rofe and bade the Furies cease;

Let there be peace-she said, and all was Peace. Between Verse 328 and 329, originally flood these lines,

From shore to fhore exulting shouts he heard,
O'er all his banks a lambent light appear'd,
With sparkling flames heav'ns glowing concave fhone,
Fictitious ftars, and glories not her own.
He faw, and gently rofe above the stream;
His fhining horns diffuse a golden gleam :
With pearl and gold his tow'ry front was dreft,
The tributes of the distant East and West, P.

The Kennet swift, for filver eels renown'd;
The Lodden flow, with verdant alders crown'd; 340
Cole, whofe dark ftreams his flow'ry iflands lave;

And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave:
The blue, tranfparent Vandalis appears;
The gulphy Lee his fedgy treffes rears;

And fullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;

And filent Darent, ftain'd with Danish blood.

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High in the midft, upon his urn reclin❜d,

(His fea-green mantle waving with the wind)
The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes
Where Windfor-domes and pompous turrets rife
Then bow'd and fpoke, the winds forget to roar,
And the hush'd waves glide foftly to the shore.

345

349 ;

Hail, facred Peace! hail long-expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise; Tho' Tyber's streams immortal Rome behold, 355 Tho' foaming Hermus fwells with tides of gold, From heav'n itself tho' fev'n-fold Nilus flows, And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; These now no more shall be the Mufe's themes, Loft in my fame, as in the fea their streams. Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine, And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,

VARIATIONS.

VER. 361. Originally thus in the MS.

360

Let Venice boast her Tow'rs amidst the Main,
Where the rough Adrian fwells and roars in vain ;
Here not a Town, but fpacious Realm fhall have
A fure foundation on the rolling wave.

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