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Thro' Time's deep fhades her facred light display,
And pour the beam of Fame's eternal day.

Queen of sweet numbers and melodious strains,
If yet thou deign to vifit Britain's plains ;
If yet thy hallow'd haunts partake thy love,
Clear fpring, enamell'd vale, or bow'ry grove;
O come, and range with me th' afpiring glades,
Where Leicester spreads the lawns, and forms the shades;
On Holkham's plains bid Grecian structures rise,
And the tall column fhoot into the skies;
Beneath whofe proud furvey, extended wide,
New scenes, new beauties, charm on ev'ry fide:
Here, crown'd with woods, the fhaded hills afcend;
In open light there the low vales extend;

Here, in rich harvests, waves the ripen'd grain,
And there fresh verdure cloaths the paftur'd plain;
Sweet intermix'd, and lovely to behold,

As the green emerald enchas'd in gold."

See where the limpid lake, thro' pendant fhades,"
The hills between, her liquid treasures leads;
And to the boughs, that fringe her crifped fides,
Holds the clear mirror of her chrystal tides:
Her chrystal tides reflect the waving scene,
Their filvery furface darkening into green.
As on the fteep banks, bending o'er the flood,
Grotesque and wild up fprings th' o'ershadowing wood;
Or the flope margent, with a fofter rife,

Shade above shade, and rank o'er rank supplies;
The verdant basis of yon champain mound,

It's hallow'd head with God's own temple crown'd;
The home-bound mariner from far defcries,
Emerging from the waves, the tall tower rife;
With transport bids the folemn ftructure hail,
And, wing'd for Britain, fpeeds the flying fail.

In nearer view, midft the lawn's wide extent,
That gently fwells with an unforc'd afcent,
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In just proportion rifing on the fight,

The stately manfion lifts it's tow'ry height,

And glitters o'er the groves. An oak beneath,
That calls the cool gales thro' it's boughs to breathe,
Where the fun darts his fervid rays in vain,
Like the great patriarch on Mamre's plain
The princely Leicester fits: the pageant pride,
Of cumb'rous greatnefs, banish'd from his fide,
In thefe blefs'd bowers he plans the great defign;
With heighten'd charms bids modest nature shine;
Shews us magnificence ally'd to ufe ;-

Tho' rich, yet chafte; tho' fplendid, not profuse;
Calls forth each beauty that from order springs,
From it's lov'd Greece each honour'd science brings,
O'er Art's fair train extends his gen'rous care,
And bids each polish'd grace inhabit here.

Nor thefe alone: here Virtue loves to dwell,
No cold reclufe, felf-cavern'd in a cell;
Active and warm the breathes a noble part,
Glows in the breaft, and opens all the heart;
To gen'rous deeds fhe fires th' empaffion'd mind,
The substitute of Heaven, to blefs mankind!
She, thro' defponding Mifery's chearless gloom,
Pours joy, and gives neglected Worth to bloom;
She in each bofom ftills the rifing figh,
And wipes off ev'ry tear from ev'ry eye;
She to yon alms-houfe, bofom'd in the grove,
From toil and cares bids Age and Want remove;
There the tir'd eve of labour'd life to reft,
Fed by her hand, and by her bounty bless'd.

These, these are rays that round true greatnefs fhine,
And thine, bright Clifford the full blaze is thine.
Bring the green bay, the fragrant myrtle bring,
The violet glowing in the lap of fpring;
Bid the sweet vallies fend each honey'd flow'r,
Each herb, each leaf, of aromatick pow'r:

The

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'he Mufe's hand fhall their mix'd odours spread,
And ftrew the ground where Clifford deigns to tread.
In diftant profpect, finking from the eye,

ow in the tufted dales the hamlets lie,
Where virgin Innocence, and meek-ey'd Peace,
With calm Content, the ftraw-roof'd cottage bless;
And ftrong-nerv'd Induftry, in pureft flow,
Spreads o'er the vermil cheek Health's rofeate glow.
More diftant yet, the throng'd commercial town,
That makes the wealth of other worlds her own,
Lifts her proud head, and fees with ev'ry tide,
Rich-freighted navies croud her harbour'd fide;
Or bids the parting veffel spread the fail
Loose to the wind, and catch the rifing gale:
Whilst the vast ocean, Albion's utmost bound,
Rolls it's broad wave, a world of waters, round.
In fweet aftonishment th' impatient mind
Bids her free pow'rs expatiate unconfin'd;
From scene to scene in rapid progrefs flies
Glances from earth to feas, from feas to fkies;
Delights to feel the great ideas roll,

Swell on the fense, and fill up all the foul.

Not fuch the fcene, when o'er th' uncultur'd wild

No harvest rose, no chearful verdure fmil'd;

On the bare hill no tree was seen to spread

The graceful foliage of it's waving head;

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No breathing hedge-row form'd the broider'd bound,
Nor hawthorn bloffom'd on th' unfightly ground:
Joy was not here; no bird of finer note

Pour'd the thick warblings of his dulcet throat;
E'en Hope was fled; and o'er the chearless plain,
A wafte of fand, Want held her unblefs'd reign.
Lo, Leicester comes! Before his mastering hand
Flies the rude Genius of the favage land;
The ruffet lawns a fudden verdure wear;
Starts from the wond'ring fields the golden ear;

Up

Up rife the waving woods, and hafte to crown
The hill's bare brow, and fhade the fultry down.
The fhelter'd traveller fees, with glad furprize,
O'er trackless wilds th' extended rows arise;
And, as their hofpitable branches spread,

Bleffes the friendly hand that form'd the fhade :
Joy blooms around, and chears the peafant's toil,
As fmiling Plenty decks the cultur'd foil;
The bright'ning fcenes a kinder genius own,
And Nature finishes what Art begun.

But can the verfe, tho' Philomela deign

To breathe the fweet notes thro' the warbled strain ;
Tho' ev'ry Mufe and ev'ry Grace should smile,
And raptures raife the honey- fteeped style;
Can the verfe paint like Nature? Can the pow'r
That wakes to life free Fancy's imag'd ftore,
Boaft charms like her's? or the creative hand
In blendid tints fuch beauteous fcenes command,
Tho' learned Pouffin gives each grace to flow,
And bright Lorrain's ethereal colours glow?
Yet peerless is the pow'r of facred fong,
That burfs in tranfport from the Mufe's tongue.
And, hark! methinks her hallow'd voice I hear,
In notes mellifluous, ftealing on the ear:
Now clearer, and yet clearer, trills the ftrain,
Swells thro' the grove, and melts along the plain.
Ye nymphs, that love to range the lily'd vale,
Where ftreams the filver fount of Alcidale;
• Ye that in Pindus' laurel'd groves abide,
Or haunt Cyllene's cyprefs-fhaded fide;
Or braid your fine wreaths in the pearly caves,
Where fam'd Iliffus rolls his Attick waves;

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Whilft the barbarian's rude, unletter'd race,

Profane your grottos, and your bow'rs deface;

See Leicester courts you to th' Icenian fhore,

Studious your long-loft honours to restore!

• See,

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See, the fair rival of your native feats,
Aönian Holkham opens all it's fweets:
Deign, then, ye facred fifters! deign to tread
The rich embroidery of yon velvet mead;
<As fresh, as lovely as your lily'd vale,

< Where ftreams the filver fount of Alcidale.
< If old Cyllene's cyprefs-fhaded bow'r,

• Or Pindus' laurel'd mount delight you more:
Go, fweet enthufiafts! foftly-filent rove
The ftudious mazes of the twilight grove;
Or, at the foot of fome hoar elm reclin'd,

• Wake the high thought that fwells the raptur'd mind;
• Or penfive liften to the folemn roar

• Of whitening billows breaking on the shore. If the majestick domes, whofe tow'ry pride

• Glitter o'er fam'd Iliffus' Attick tide,

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Your steps detain; yon princely ftructure view, • Grac'd with each finer art your Athens knew! Each finer art to just perfection brought,

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All that Vitruvius and Palladio thought:
The trophy'd arch; the porphry-pillar'd hall;

The sculptur'd forms that breathe along the wall;

Lycæan Pan; the faun's Arcadian race;

The Huntress Queen's inimitable grace;

Athenian Pallas, clad in radiant arms;

Heav'n's emprefs, confcious of her flighted charms;

• Your own Apollo, on whose polish'd brow

Youth blooms, and grace, and candour's bright'ning glow;
Gods, heroes, fages, an illuftrious train,

Court you to Holkham's confecrated plain.
Hafte, then, ye facred fifters! hafte and bring
The laurel fteep'd in the Caftalian spring;
On the choice bough a purer fragrance breathe,
And twine for Leicester's brow th' unfading wreathe.
She ceas'd the raptur'd strain; and, dear to fame,
Flows the proud verse inscrib'd with Leicester's name.

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