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The Mortal thought he saw his Goddess shine,
And all the lying Graces look'd divine;
But when with heat he clasp'd her fancied

' charms, The empty vapour baulkd his eager arms...

Loth to-depart, I leave th' inviting scene, Yet scarce forbear to view it o’er again; But still new objects give a new delight, And various profpects bless the wandering fight,

Aloft in state the airy towers arise, And with nevý lustre deck the wondering skies; Lo! to what height the fchools ascending reach, Built with that art which they alone can teach; The lofty dome expands her spacious gate, Where all the decent Graces jointly wait; In every shape the God of Art resorts, And crouds of Sages fill th’extended courts. With wonders fraught the bright Museum

"fee, Itself the greatest curiosity! Where Nature's choicest treafure, all combin’d, Delight at once, and quite confound the mind; Ten thousand splendors strike the dazzled eye, And form on earth another galaxy.

Here

Here colleges in sweet confufion rise, There temples seem to reach their native skies; Spires, towers, and groves, compose the various

fhew, And mingled prospects charm the doubting view; Who can deny their characters divine, Without resplendent, and inspir’d within ? But, fince above my weak and artless lays, Let their own poets fing their equal praise.

One labour more .my grateful verse renews, And rears aloft the low-descending Muse; The building *, parent of my young essays, Alks in return a tributary praise. . Pillars sublime bear up the learned weight, And antique Sages tread the pompous height; Whilst guardian Muses shade the happy piles, And all around diffuse propitious smiles. . Here Lancaster, adorn’d with every grace, Stands chief in merit, as the chief in place: To his lov'd name our earliest lays belong, The theme at once, and patron of our fong.

* Queen's College Library. See the following Poem. N.

Long

Ļong may he o'er his much-lov'd Queen's pre

.. fide, Qur arts encourage, and our counsels guide; Till after-ages, fill'd with glad surprize, Behold his image all majestic rife, Where now in pomp a venerable band, Princes and Queens, and holy Fathers, stand. Good Egglesfield * claims homage from the eye, And the hard stone seems foft with piety; a The mighty monarchs still the same appear, And every marble frown provokes the war; . Whilft rugged rocks, mark'd with Philippa's face, Soften to charms, and glow with new-born grace. A fight less noble did the warriors yield, Transform’d to statues by the Gorgon shield; Distorting fear the coward's form confest, And fury seem'd to heave the hero's breast; The lifeless rocks each various thought betray'd, And all the soul was in the stone display'd.

Too high, my verse, has been thy daring flight, Thy softer numbers now the groves invite,

* Robert Egglesfield, B. D. the founder, 1340. N.

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"Where filent shades provoke the speaking lyre,
And chearful objects happy songs inspire,
At once bestow rewards, and thoughts infuse,
Compose a garland, and supply a Muse.

Behold around, and see the living green
In native colours paints a blooming scene ;
Th’eternal buds no deadly Winter fear,
But scorn the coldest season of the year;
Apollo sure will bless the happy place,
Which his own Daphne condescends to grace ;:
For here the everlasting laurels grow,
In every grotto, and on every brow.
• Prospects fo gay demand a Congreve's strains,
To call the gods and nymphs upon the plains;
Pan yields his empire o'er the fylvan throng;
Pleas*d to submit to his superior fong;
Great Denham's genius looks with rapture down,
* And Spenser's fiade resigns the rural crown.

Fill'd with great thoughts, a thousand Sages

rove

Through every field and solitary grove; Whose fouls, ascending an exalted height, Out-foar the drooping Muse's vulgar flight,

E L L 29 That longs to see her darling votaries laid Beneath the covert of some gentle shade, Where purling streams and warbling birds con

spire To aid th’ enchantments of the trembling lyre.

Bear me, some God, to Christ-Church, royal

seat,

And.lay me softly in the green retreat,
Where Aldrich holds o'er Wit the sovereign

power,
And crowns the Poets which he taught before.
To Aldrich Britain owes her tuneful Boyle,
The noblest trophy of the conquer'd ifle;
Who adds new warmth to our poetic fire,
And gives to England the Hibernian lyre.
Philips, by Phæbus and his Aldrich taught,
Sings with that heat wherewith his Churchill

fought, Unfetter’d, in great Milton's strain he writes, Like Milton's angels whilst his hero fights ; Pursues the Bard, whilst he with honour can, Equals the Poet, and excels the inan,

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