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Musidora Bathing.

"Yet unbeheld, save by the sacred eye
"Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt,

"To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot,
"And each licentious eye." With wild surprise,
As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,
A stupid moment motionless she stood;
So stands the statue* that enchants the world,
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes
Which blissful Eden knew not; and, arrayed
In careless haste, th' alarming paper snatched.
But when her DAMON's well-known hand she saw,
Her terrors vanished, and a softer train

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Of mixed emotions, hard to be described,

Her sudden bosom seized: shame, void of guilt,

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The charming blush of innocence, esteem
And admiration of her lover's flame,

By modesty exalted; ev'n a sense

Of self-approving beauty stole across

Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm

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Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul;

And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream
Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen

Of rural lovers, this confession carved,

Which soon her DAMON kissed with weeping joy: 1365 "Dear youth sole judge of what these verses mean, "By fortune too much favoured, but by love, "Alas! not favoured less, be still as now "Discreet: the time may come you need not fly." The sun has lost his rage: his downward orb

* The Venus of Medici.

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Walk of Lovers.

Shoots nothing now but animating warmth,
And vital lustre ; that, with various ray,

Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven,
Incessant rolled into romantic shapes,

The dream of waking fancy! Broad below,
Covered with ripening fruits, and swelling fast
Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth
And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour
Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves
To seek the distant hills, and there converse
With Nature; there to harmonize his heart,
And in pathetic song to breathe around
The harmony to others. Social friends,
Attuned to happy unison of soul;
To whose exalting eye a fairer world,
Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse,

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Displays its charms; whose minds are richly fraught With philosophic stores, superior light;

And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns

Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance :
Now called abroad enjoy the falling day:

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Now to the verdant Portico of woods,
To Nature's vast Lyceum forth they walk;

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By that kind school where no proud master reigns, The full free converse of the friendly heart, Improving and improved. Now from the world, Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, And pour their souls in transport, which the SIRE Of Love, approving hears, and " calls it good." Which way, AMANDA, shall we bend our course? The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we choose? All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind -Along the streams? or walk the smiling mead?

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View from Richmond Hill.

Or court the forest glades? or wander wild'
Among the waving harvests? or ascend,
While radiant summer opens all its pride,
Thy hill delightful, Shene*? Here let us sweep
The boundless landscape: now the raptured eye,
Exulting swift to huge AUGUSTA send;

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Now to the Sister Hills † that skirt her plain;

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To lofty Harrow now, and now to where
Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow.
In lovely contrast to this glorious view
Calmly magnificent, then will we turn

To where the silver Thames first rural grows.
There let the feasted eye unwearied stray:
Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods
That nodding hang o'er HARRINGTON's retreat;
And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks,
Beneath whose shades, in spotless peace retired,
With Her the pleasing partner of his heart,
The worthy QUEENSB'RY yet laments his GAY,
And polished CORNBURY WOOes the willing Muse,
Slow let us trace the matchless Vale of Thames ;
Fair-winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their POPE implore
The healing God; to royal Hampton's pile,
To Clermont's terrass'd height, and Esher's groves,
Where in the sweetest solitude, embraced

By the soft windings of the silent Mole,

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* The old name of Richmond, signifyng in Saxon Shining, or Splendour.

† Highgate and Hampstead.

In his last sickness.

Soil and Climate of Britain.

From courts and senates PELHAM finds repose.
Enchanting vale! beyond whate'er the Muse
Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung!

O vale of bliss! O softly-swelling hills!
On which the Power of Cultivation lies,
And joys to see the wonders of his toil.

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Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around,
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires,
|| And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all
The stretching landscape into smoke decays!
Happy BRITANNIA! where the Queen of Arts,
Inspiring vigour, Liberty abroad

Walks, unconfined, even to thy farthest cots,
And scatters plenty with unsparing hand.

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime;
Thy streams unfailing in the Summer's drought;
Unmatched thy guardian-oaks; thy valleys float
With golden waves and on thy mountains flocks
Bleat numberless; while, roving round their sides,
Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves.
Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquelled
Against the mower's scythe. On every hand
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth;
And property assures it to the swain,

Pleased, and unwearied, in his guarded toil.

Full are thy cities with the sons of art;' And trade and joy, in every busy street, Mingling are heard even Drudgery himself,

As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews

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The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, 1460 Where rising masts an endless prospect yield,

With labour burn, and echo to the shouts

L

British Warriors and Statesmen.

Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves
His last adieu, and loosening every sheet,
Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind.

Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth,
By hardship sinewed, and by danger fired,
Scattering the nations where they go; and first,
Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas.

Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans

Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside;
In genius, and substantial learning, high;
For every virtué, every worth, renowned;
Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind;

Yet like the muttering thunder when provoked,
The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource
Of those that under grim oppression groan.
Thy Sons of Glory many! ALFRED thine,
In whom the splendour of heroic war,

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And more heroic peace, when governed well,
Combine; whose hallowed name the virtues saint,
And his own Muses love; the best of Kings!
With him thy EDWARDS and thy HENRYS shine,
Names dear to fame; the first who deep impressed
On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms,
That awes her genius still. In Statesmen thou,

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And Patriots, fertile. Thine a steady MORE,

Who, with a generous, tho' mistaken zeal,
Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage,
Like Cato firm, like Aristides just,
Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor,

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A dauntless soul erect, who smiled on death.
Frugal, and wise, a WALSINGHAM is thine;
A DRAKE, who made thee mistress of the deep,
And bore thy name in thunder round the world.

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