And ye, that from the ftately brow Of WINDSOR'S heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His filver-winding way, Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade, Ah fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood ftray'd, A ftranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As |