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Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace;
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glassy wave?

The captive linnet which enthrall?
What idle progeny succeed

To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?

While some, on earnest business bent,
Their murmuring labours ply
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty :

Some bold adventurers disdain

The limits of their little reign,

And unknown regions dare descry;
Still as they run, they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possess'd;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue;
Wild wit, invention ever new;

And lively cheer, of vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!

No sense have they of ills to come,
No care beyond to-day;

Yet see how all around them wait
The ministers of human fate,

And black misfortune's baleful train: Ah! show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murd'rous band, Ah! tell them they are men!

These shall the fury passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful anger, pallid fear,

And shame that skulks behind;
Or pining love shall waste their youth,
Or jealousy with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-visaged comfortless despair,
And sorrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter scorn a sacrifice,
And grinning infamy.

The stings of falsehood those shall try,
And hard unkindness' altered eye,

That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen remorse with blood defiled, And moody madness laughing wild, Amidst severest woe.

Lo, in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen,

The painful family of death,

More hideous than their queen:

This racks their joints, this fires the veins,
That every labouring sinew strains,
Those in the deeper vitals rage;
Lo, poverty, to fill the band,
That numbs the soul with icy hand;
And slow consuming age.

To each his sufferings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
The unfeeling for his own.

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,

And happiness too swiftly flies;
Thought would destroy their paradise-
No more; -where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.

GRAY.

110. ADAM'S ACCOUNT OF HIS CREATION.

OR man to tell how human life began,

FOR

Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
Desire with thee still longer to converse
Induces me. New-waked from soundest sleep,
Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,
In balmy sweat; which with his beams the sun

Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed.
Straight towards heaven my wand'ring eyes I turn'd.
And gazed awhile the ample sky; till, raised
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright
Stood on my feet. About me round I saw
Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,
And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these,
Creatures that lived and moved, and walk'd or flew ;
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled;
With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd!
Myself I then perused, and limb by limb

Survey'd; and sometimes went, and sometimes ran
With supple joints, as lively vigour led:

But who I was, or where, or from what cause,
Knew not. To speak I tried, and forthwith spake;
My tongue obeyed, and readily could name
Whate'er I saw. "Thou sun," said I, "fair light!
And thou, enlighten'd earth! so fresh and gay;
Ye hills and dales; ye rivers, woods, and plains;
And ye that live and move, fair creatures! tell,
Tell, if ye saw,
how came I thus ?-how here?"

MILTON.

THE

111. THE WILD GAZELLE.

wild gazelle on Judah's hills

Exulting yet may bound,

And drink from all the living rills

That gush on holy ground:

Its airy step and glorious eye

May glance in tameless transport by:

A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair.

The cedars wave on Lebanon,

But Judah's statelier maids are gone!

More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scatter'd race;

For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace:

It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.

But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;

And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie.

Our temple hath not left a stone,

And mockery sits on Salem's throne.

LORD BYRON.

112. THE ARMADA.

TTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise :

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When that great fleet invincible, against her bore, in vain,
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts in Spain.

It was about the lovely close of a warm summer's day,
There came a gallant merchant ship, full sail to Plymouth bay;
The crew had seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle,
At earliest twilight, on the waves, lie heaving many a mile.

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