Nor need we mourn Great Archimedes Sphere,
Loft tho the finifh'd Labour-be, fince here
In thee reviv'd his Genius doth appear.
Nor doth thy Hand the hoarding Mifer play,
But all the Ufes of thy Art convey
To ferve Mankind. Now Flamfted, give me leave
Here from thy Walls that Profpect to receive,
Which Nature's wide Indulgence doth afford
To each furveying Eye.
Here mine defcending from the Hill, falutes
A pleasant Vale, whofe conftant Beauty futes
The Queen's fair Houfe, that feems below to vye
With equal Grace the Pile that ftands fo high.
More fate, for this like every lofty State
Is liable to Envy or to Hate,
The Blafts of Fortune, or the Rage of Winds, Which spoil the proudeft, and the best Designs. Whilft that, like one with milder place content, Is less expos'd, more firm and innocent.
Here should ft thou dwell, my Muse, at least reveal
What Gratitude forbids thee to conceal:
That entring here, amidst the various Paint,
*Old as it is, difdaining to be faint,
The Mufes we behold divinely fair,
With all the proper Emblems of their Care.
And here, O teach me to unfold that Birth,
Which dignifies fo much this Spot of Earth,
That of the Great Eliza, [fo renown'd
In all the Arts of Empire. and fo found
In Fame's Immortal Volume] in whofe time
True English Worth moft flourish'd in this Clime.
And as it rofe with her, fo her Decrease
Made that decline, and almost with her cease.
So doom'd a while, till Nature gain'd Recruits,
Improv'd the Soil, and brought forth better Fruits.
Here should my Praise enlarge, but that my Eye,
Too quick for Thought, beholds a Valley nigh:
Whofe
Whose flow'ry Pafture oft invites to graze
Whole Droves of the Horn'd Herd, a fearful Race,
The Hunter's Paftime, now retir'd for Shade
Beneath a lofty Hill, by Nature made
A common and a fafe Retreat, to fhun
A Northern Tempeft, or a Scorching Sun.
Here they delight to wanton, play, and rove,
To make their Courtship, and enjoy their Love.
Rambling they love, nor are to one confin'd,
But free as Air, and uncontroul'd as Wind.
No Law they know, but guided by their Eyes
Take their own Choice to love or to defpife.
How then is Man deceiv'd! how weak, how vain
Is he, who thinks by Reason to obtain
Advantage over Brutes, who know no Cares
Of racking Love, no Hopes, or wild Despairs;
But run with Joy the deftin'd Courfe of Life,
Ty'd to no Rule, no Slavery, no Wife!
Whilst we triumphing falfely o'er their State,
Mifguided by our Reafon, foon or late
Split on the fatal Rocks of Love and Hate.
Behind the Queen's another Royal Pile
Next courts my view, the Hope of Britain's Ille; * A King's Foundation, and defign'd
When State-Affairs would fuffer his Retreat:
When Care of Empire, and the Toil of Power
Had well prepar'd Him to enjoy an Hour.
Close to the Banks of Silver Thames it stands,
With Majefty it rifes, and commands
A noble Profpect, for at once it views
An English Fleet, our Ifle's Defence, and fhews
A Mixture of all Nations and of Things,
Which the kind Flood receiving, hither brings.
The View, I mean, it brings, for all the Store
Unlades it felf upon the Neighb'ring Shore
Of the Fair City, whofe extending Side
Swells in my Eye with fo Auguft a Pride,
So near me too, that did not here my Mufe
Urge a Sufpence, I could not well refufe
More than a tranfient Offering to its Praife,
But that's referv'd a while my Thoughts to raise
Upon another View.
Croffing the Stream that flows between the Pile
And the next Shore, we view a fpacious Isle,
Whose Bofom teeming by an ambient Flood,
Produces Plenty of fuch wholefom Food,
That grazing here, the worn, abandon'd Steed
Regains his Vigour, and renews his Speed.
Now gentle Thames, concern'd for our Delight,
Prefents a hundred Windings to our Sight;
Which as they turn, ftill flow with fuch a Grace,
Giving fo much Advantage to each place
They run between, that no Maander fhows
Such Turnings, or fo fair a View bestows.
See with what joyful haft he takes his Course,
Yet how ferene, and how averfe to Force.
No rapid Waves throughout his Channel roll,
Yet fwift as Fame, that flys without controul.
Tho lib'ral, yet within his Bounds he flows,
And tho referv'd, he vifits, as he goes,
The neighb'ring Meads, and cherishing the Earth,
Presents the Mower with a plenteous Birth.
O happy Thames, whofe Current could invite
Immortal Denham's Mufe, thy Praise to write!
Now fhall thy juft Preeminence o'er all
The Ocean's Sons, by no Endeavours fall:
By no dark Cloud of Malice be o'ercaft,
As long as his Eternal Work fball laft.
Next Windfor, rifing with a stately Meen, Shews his proud Head, afpiring to be feen So far remote from hence, tho here it seems A diftant Mountain only, when the Beams
Of a clear Sun diffuse not o'er the Place
Their Brightness, to difclofe its Frame and Grace.
High as the God's Olympus, feems the Hill
On which it stands, and fhining doth reveal
A Palace as Majestick, and as Fair,
As Poets fruitful Heads have fancy'd there.
Thou, Windfor, too art happy in the Praise
Which the fame Heavenly Mufe to Thee did raise.
Who knows not now thy Beauty, and thy Force,
Thy matchlefs Heroes, and their Warlike Course,
Thy Garter's first Original, and Fame,
By Kings esteem'd an Honour to their Name?
Here when Desert has challeng'd from the King
Thy Order, what Profufion doth it bring
Of Pomp and Beauty to thy stately Quire!
How do we throng to gaze, and to admire!
And tho devouring Time has left no Name
Of thy first Founder in the Books of Fame:
Yet this we know, that to fufpend thy Fate,
?Twas Charles repair'd Thee, and en-
Now, gentle Mufe, affift me to return
To the King's Houfe, that was fo long forlorn,
Abandon'd, left unfinish'd, till a Queen,
[Equal in All to great Eliza seen,
Her Godlike Bounty, and capacious Soul,
The Arts of Empire, and Succefs of Rule:
Now equal too in Death, alas! O Weight
Of most uncomfortable Woe!]
Partly in pity to its falling State,
But more by Love conducted, and by Fate,
Fond of her People's Good, fpread forth her Mind,
Renew'd the Building, and its Ufe defign'd
For poor, difabled Seamen, whom the War
Invading should deny from Wounds to spare.
See how the bufy Lab'rers urge the Pile,
That is to fuccour, and oblige our Ifle.
Some haften to extend its Walls, and fome
Adorn the inward Roof, whilft thefe affume
The carving Part, and every Order shape,
And those furveying let no Art escape,
That may advance the Beauty of the Frame
As fhining, as its fecond Founder's Name.
Juft fo the Bees, when Summer is begun,
Spread o'er the Fields, and labour in the Sun.
Part cull the blooming Flowers,& load their Thighs
With various Sweets,and part with hummingCrys,
Emit their Young; whilft others to relieve
The most opprefs'd, their Burdens do receive,
And bear them Home, where other Bees falute
Their fafe Arrival, and difpofe their Fruit
Within their Cells, or with unwearied toil
Thicken the liquid Juice, and guard the Spoil;
Whilft others rang'd in gallant Order, drive
The Drones, a lazy Infect, from their Hive.
All urge the Work, whilft the Nectarean Food
Exerts a fragrant Odour from the Wood.
Now fhall our England flourish, and extend
Its Greatness to the World's extremeft End:
For fince fo noble a Support was made
By William's Bounty for the Soldier's Trade
Before at Chelfey (whofe fweet Fabrick might
Suffice alone for ample Theme to write)
By this enlargement of the Royal Mind,
The Nation's Soul fhall be no more confin'd:
But wherefoe'er our Fleets or Armies go,
We'll fpread our Glory, and infult our Foe.
Here reft, my Mufe, awhile to eafe my fight,
Which grows unfteddy with the diftant flight
My Eyes have made; then gently hover round
What lies behind, and view the lofty Ground.
Whilst I refresh my felf beneath the Shade
Of an adjacent Grove, fupinely laid,
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