Then, Spencer, mount amid the band,
Where knights and kings promifcuous ftand.
What though the hero's flame repress'd
Burns calmly in thy generous breast!
Yet who more dauntless to oppose
In doubtful days our home-bred foes!
Who rais'd his country's wealth fo high,
Or view'd with lefs defiring eye!
The fage who large of foul furveys
The globe, and all its empires weighs,
Watchful the various climes to guide,
Which feas, and tongues, and faiths divide,
A nobler name in Windfor's fhrine
Shall leave, if right the Muse divine,
Than fprung of old, abhorr'd and vain,
From ravag'd realms and myriads flain.
Why praise we, prodigal of fame,
The rage that fets the world on flame?
My guiltless Mufe his brow fhall bind
Whofe godlike bounty fpares mankind.
For those, whom bloody garlands crown,
The brass may breathe, the marble frown,
To him, through every rescued land,
Ten thousand living trophies stand.
"-Campos, ubi Troja fuit." VIRG.
'HERE Kensington high o'er the neighbouring
lands
'Midft greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands,
And fees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A fnow of bloffoms, and a wild of flowers,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair
To gravel walks, and unpolluted air.
Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies,
They breathe in fun-fhine, and fee azure skies;
Each walk, with robes of various dyes befpread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,
Where rich brocades and gloffy damasks glow,
And chints, the rival of the fhowery bow.
Here England's daughter, darling of the land,
Sometimes, furrounded with her virgin band,
Gleams through the fhades. She, towering o'er the rest,
Stands fairest of the fairer kind confeft,
Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's caufe deny'd,
And charm a people to her father's fide.
Long have thefe groves to royal guests been known,
Nor Naffau firft prefer'd them to a throne.
Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air;
Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair.
Pour'd in his Danes; ere elder Julius came;
Or Dardan Brutus gave our ifle a name;
A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood,
The fcene of wars, and ftain'd with lovers' blood.
You, who through gazing crowds, your captive throng, Throw pangs and paffions, as you move along, Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes, Where all unlevel'd the gay garden lies:
If generous anguish for another's pains
Ere heav'd your hearts, or fhiver'd through your veins, Look down attentive on the pleasing dale,
And liften to my melancholy tale.
That hollow space, where now in living rows
Line above line the yew's fad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave.
The landskip now fo fweet we well may praise :
But far, far sweeter in its antient days,
Far fweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling towers was crown'd.
Where in the midft thofe verdant pillars fpring,
Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,
In happier years a crowded street was feen;
Nor all thofe leaves that now the profpe&t grace,
Could match the numbers of its pygmy race.
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of woe and wonder, I relate.
When Albion rul'd the land, whofe lineage came
From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,
Their midnight pranks the fprightly fairies play'd
On every hill, and danc'd in every shade.
But, foes to fun-fhine, moft they took delight
In dells and dales conceal'd from human fight:
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;
Or fcoop'd the bofom of the blafted oak;
Or heard, o'erfhadow'd by fome shelving hill,
The diftant murmurs of the falling rill.
They, rich in pilfer'd fpoils, indulg'd their mirth,
And pity'd the huge wretched fons of earth.
Ev'n now, 'tis faid, the hinds o'erhear their strain,
And strive to view their airy forms in vain :
They to their cells at man's approach repair,
Like the thy leveret, or the mother-hare,
The whilst poor mortals startle at the found
Of unfeen footsteps on the haunted ground.
Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown,
Stood the lov'd feat of royal Oberon.
From every region to his palace-gate
Came peers and princes of the fairy state,
Who, rank'd in council round the facred shade,
Their monarch's will and great behefts obey'd.
From Thames' fair banks, by lofty towers adorn'd,
With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd:
Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay,
Shone every knight and every lovely fay,
Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd,
Hath fam'd king Pepin and his court furvey'd,
May guess, if old by modern things we trace,
The
pomp and fplendor of the fairy-race.
By magic fenc'd, by fpells encompass'd round,
No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground;
No mortal enter'd, thofe alone who came
Stol'n from the couch of fome terreftrial dame :
For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed,
And left fome fickly changeling in their stead.
It chanc'd a youth of Albion's royal blood
Was fofter'd here, the wonder of the wood.
Milkah for wiles above her peers renown'd,
Deep-skill'd in charms and many a mystic sound,
As through the regal dome she fought for prey,
Observ'd the infant Albion where he lay
In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride,
And stole him from the fleeping mother's fide.
Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind!
Ah, wretched nymph, to future evils blind!
The time fhall come when thou shalt dearly pay
The theft, hard-hearted! of that guilty day;
Thou in thy turn fhalt like the queen repine,
And all her forrows doubled fhall be thine:
He who adorns thy houfe, the lovely boy
Who now adorns it, fhall at length destroy.
Two hundred moons in their pale course had seen The gay-rob'd fairies glimmer on the green, And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime To nineteen years, as mortals measure time. Flush'd with refiftlefs charms he fir'd to love Each nymph and little Dryad of the grove; For skilful Milkah spar'd not to employ Her utmoft art to rear the princely boy; Each fupple limb fhe fwath'd, and tender bone, And to the Elfin ftandard kept him down; She robb'd dwarf-elders of their fragrant fruit, And fed him early with the daify's root,
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