Stothard del.

Walker Sculp

355. line 11.

Publifh'd as the Act directs, by Harrison & Co Sep. 1.1781.

While thus the fpake, my looks exprefs'd
The raptures kindling in my breaft:
My foul a fix'd attention gave;

When the ftern monarch of the grave
With haughty ftrides approach'd-amaz'd,
I ftood and trembled as I gaz'd.

The seraph calm'd each anxious fear,
And kindly wip'd the falling tear;
Then haften'd with expanded wing
To meet the pale, terrifick king.
But now what milder fcenes arife!
The tyrant drops his hoftile guife:
He feems a youth divinely fair,
In graceful ringlets waves his hair;
His wings their whitening plumes display,
His burnish'd plumes reflect the day.
Light flows his fhining azure veft,
And all the angel ftands confefs'd.

I view'd the change with sweet surprize,
And, oh! I panted for the skies;

Thank'd Heav'n, that e'er I drew my breath,
And triumph'd in the thoughts of Death.

KENSINGTON GARDEN.

BY MR. TICKEL.

Campos, ubi Troja fuit.

VIRG.

W

HERE Kenfington, high o'er the neighb'ring lands,
Midft greens and sweets, a regal fabrick ftands,

And fees each spring, luxuriant in her bow'rs,

A fnow of bloffoms, and a wild of flow'rs,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair
To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air.
2 Y 2

Here,

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 bespread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,

Where rich brocades and gloffy damasks glow,
And chintz, the rival of the show'ry bow.

Here England's daughter, darling of the land,
Sometimes, furrounded with her virgin band,
Gleams through the fhades: fhe, tow'ring o'er the reft,
Stands faireft of the fairer kind confefs'd,

Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's caufe deny'd,
And charm a people to her father's fide.

Long have these groves to royal guefts been known,
Nor Naffau first preferr'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 isle a name;
A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood,
The scene of wars, and stain'd with lovers blood.

You, who thro' gazing crowds, your captive throng,
Throw pangs and paffions as you move along,

Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes,
Where all unlevell'd the gay garden lies:

If gen'rous anguish for another's pains

Ere heav'd your hearts, or fhiver'd through your veins,
Look down attentive on the pleafing dale,

And liften to my melancholy tale.

That hollow fpace, where now in living rows,
Line above line, the yew's fad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand it's beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave;
The landscape now fo fweet we well may praise,
But far, far fweeter, in it's ancient days;
Far fweeter was it, when it's peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs were crown'd.

Where

Where in the midft thofe verdant pillars fpring,
Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For ev'ry hedge of vegetable green,

In happier years, a crouded street was feen;
Nor all thofe leaves, that now the profpect grace,
Could match the numbers of it's pigmy race.
What urg'd this mighty empire to it's 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 sprightly fairies play'd
On ev'ry hill, and danc'd in ev'ry shade.
But, foes to funshine, most they took delight
In dells and dales, conceal'd from human fight:
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock
Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak;
Or heard, o'erfhadow'd by fome shelving hill,
The diftant murmurs of the falling rill.

They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulg'd their mirth,
And pity'd the huge wretched fons of earth.

E'en now,
'tis faid, the hinds o'erhear their train,
And strive to view their airy forms in vain ;
They to their cells at man's approach repair,
Like the shy leveret, or the mother hare,
The whilft poor mortals ftartle 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 ev'ry region, to his palace-gate

Came peers and princes of the fairy ftate,
Who, rank'd in council round the facred fhade,
Their monarch's will and great behefts obey'd.
From Thames fair banks, by lofty tow'rs adorn'd,
With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd:
Hence, in proud robes, and colours bright and gay,
Shone ev'ry knight and ev'ry lovely fay.

Whoe'er