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See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep,
Here too, 'tis sung, of old, Diana stray'd,
Above the rest a rural nymph was fam'd, Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona nam'd; (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast, The Mase shall sing, and what she sings shall last.) Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known, But by the crescent and the golden zone. She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care ; A belt her waist, a fillet binds hier bair; A painted quiver on ber shoulder sounds, And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. It chanc'd, as eager of the chase, the maid Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd, Pan saw and lov'd, and, burning with desire, Pursued her flight; her flight increas'd his fire. Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, [doves; When through the clouds he drives the trembling
As from the god she flew with furious pace, Or as the god, more furious, urg'd the chase : Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears; Now close bebind, bis sounding steps she hears; And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, His shadow lengthen’d by the setting sun; And now his sborter breath, with sultry air, Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair. In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid. Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain; • Ali, Cynthia ! ah-though banish'd from thy train, Let me, O let me, to the shades repair, My native shades- there weep, and murmur there.' She said, and melting as in tears she lay, In a soft silver stream dissolv'd away. The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps; Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore, And bathes the forest where she rang'd before. In her chaste current oft the goddess laves, And with celestial tears angments the waves. Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies The headlong monntains and the downward skies; The watery landscape of the pendent woods, And absent trees that tremble in the floods; In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, And floating forests paint the waves with green, Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering
· streams, Then foaming pour along, and rush into the
Where towering oaks their growing honours rear,
Happy the man whom this bright court approves,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Ye sacred Nive; that all my soul possess,
Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice, No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice; Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley His living barp, and lofty Denham sung? [strung But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings ! Are these reviv'd, or is it Granville sings? 'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats, And call the Muses to their ancient seats; To paint anew the flowery silvan scenes, To crown the forests with immortal greens, Make Windsor-hills in lofty numbers rise, And lift her turrets nearer to the skies ;
To sing those honours you deserve to wear,
Here poble Surrey felt the sacred rage,
O wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breath'd upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriors, whose ador'd remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains ; With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, Stretch his long triumphs down through every age, Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressy's glorious field, The lilies blazing on the regal shield; Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall, And leave inanimate the naked wall; Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear, Apd bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
Let softer strains 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 sleeps : Whom not the extended Albion could contain, From old Belerium' to the northern main, The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest, And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd !
Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known (Obscure the place, and uninscrib'd the stone;)
From Bellerus, a Cornish Giant: that part of Cornwall called the Land's End.