Forth from his eyry rous'd in dread,
The rav'ning eagle northward fled.)
Or dwell in willow'd meads more near,
With those to whom thy stork is dear;
Those whom the rod of Alva bruis'd,
Whose crown a British queen† refus'd!
The magic works, thou feel'st the strains,
One holier name alone remains;

The perfect spell shall then avail,
Hail, Nymph, ador'd by Britain, hail!

ANTISTROPHE.

Beyond the measure vast of thought,
The works, the wizard Time has wrought!
The Gaul, 'tis held of antique story,

Saw Britain link'd to his now adverse strand,‡

No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary,

* The Dutch, among whom there are severe penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are said to entertain a superstitious sentiment, that if the whole species of them should become extinct, they would lose their liberties.

+ Queen Elizabeth.

This tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalists too have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact by arguments drawn from the correspondent disposition of the two opposite coasts. I do not remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it.

He pass'd with unwet feet thro' all our land.
To the blown Baltic then, they say,

The wild waves found another way,

Where Orcas howls, his wolfish mountains rounding;

Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise,

A wide wild storm e'en nature's self confounding,
With'ring her giant sons with strange uncouth surprise.
This pillar'd earth so firm and wide,
By winds and inward labours torn,

In thunders dread was push'd aside,

And down the should'ring billows borne.

And see, like gems, her laughing train,

The little isles on ev'ry side,

*

Mona, once hid from those that search the main,
Where thousand elfin shapes abide,

And Wight, who checks the west'ring tide,

For thee consenting Heav'n has each bestow'd, A fair attendant on her sov'reign pride:

There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid, becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and opened her passion to him, but was received with coldness, occasioned by his horror and surprise at her appearance. This, however, was so misconstrued by the sea lady, that in revenge for his treatment of her, she punished the whole island, by covering it with a mist; so that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs.

To thee this blest divorce she ow'd,

For thou hast made her vales thy lov'd, thy last abode !

SECOND EPODE.

Then, too, 'tis said, an hoary pile,
'Midst the green navel of our isle,
Thy shrine in some religious wood,
O soul-enforcing goddess, stood.
There oft the painted native's feet
Were wont thy form celestial meet:
Though now with hopeless toil we trace
Time's backward rolls, to find its place;
Whether the fiery-tressed Dane,
Or Roman's self o'erturn'd the fane,
Or in what heav'n-left age it fell,
'Twere hard for modern song to tell.
Yet still, if Truth those beams infuse,
Which guide at once, and charm the Muse,
Beyond yon braided clouds that lie,
Paving the light-embroider'd sky,
Amidst the bright pavilion'd plains,
The beauteous model still remains.
There, happier than in islands blest,
Or bow'rs by spring or Hebe drest,
The chiefs who fill our Albion's story,
In warlike weeds, retir'd in glory,

Hear their consorted Druids sing Their triumphs to th' immortal string. may the Poet now unfold

How

What never tongue or numbers told?

How learn delighted, and amaz'd,

What hands unknown that fabric rais'd?
E'en now before his favour'd eyes,
In Gothic pride, it seems to rise!
Yet Græcia's graceful orders join,
Majestic through the mix'd design;
The secret builder knew to choose
Each sphere-found gem of richest hues :
Whate'er heaven's purer mold contains,
When nearer suns emblaze its veins;
There on the walls the patriot's sight
May ever hang with fresh delight,
And, grav'd with some prophetic rage,
Read Albion's fame thro' ev'ry age.

Ye forms divine, ye laureate band,
That near her inmost altar stand!
Now soothe her, to her blissful train
Blithe Concord's social form to gain:
Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep
E'en Anger's blood-shot eyes in sleep:
Before whose breathing bosom's balm
Rage drops his steel, and storms grow calm;

Her let our sires and matrons hoar
Welcome to Britain's ravag'd shore;
Our youths, enamour'd of the fair,
Play with the tangles of her hair,
Till, in one loud applauding sound,
The nations shout to her around,
O how supremely art thou blest,
Thou, lady-thou shalt rule the west!

F