There mighty nations shall enquire their doom,
The world's great oracle in times to come;
There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen
Once more to bend before a BRITISH QUEEN.

Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into thy floods,

Bear Britain's thunder, and her Cross display,

386

To the bright regions of the rising day;
Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen Pole;
Or under southern skies exalt their sails,

391

Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales!

For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
And Phoebus warm the rip'ning ore to gold.
The time shall come, when free as seas or wind
Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And seas but join the regions they divide;
Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people croud my wealthy side,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire

395

400

405

Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!

Oh

VER. 391.] Here is almost a prophecy of those discoveries of new islands and continents which this country of late years has had the honour to make.

Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
'Till Conquest cease, and Slav'ry be no more;
'Till the freed Indians in their native groves

Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves,
Peru once more a race of kings behold,

411

And other Mexico's be roof'd with gold.
Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,

415

420

In brazen bonds shall barb'rous Discord dwell:
Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
And mad Ambition shall attend her there:
There purple Vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:
There hated Envy her own snakes shall feel,
And Persecution mourn her broken wheel :
There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain."
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
The thoughts of Gods let GRANVILLE's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of op'ning fate to light.
My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains,
Where Peace descending bids her olive spring,
And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise;

Enough for me, that to the list'ning swains
First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.

426

431

ODE

ON

ST. CECILIA'S DAY,

MDCCVIII.

AND OTHER PIECES FOR MUSIC.