YE diftant fpires, ye antique towers, That crown the watery glade, Where grateful Science ftill adores And ye, that from the ftately brow Of Windfor's heights th' expanfe below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, MENANDER. Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His filver-winding way. Ah, happy hills, ah, pleafing fhade, Ah, fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood ftray'd, *King Henry the Sixth, Founder of the College. I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladfome wing, Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Who foremost now delight to cleave To chace the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball? While fome on earnest business bent Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainft graver hours, that bring constraint To fweeten liberty; Some bold adventurers difdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: They hear a voice in every wind, And fnatch a fearful joy. *And bees their honey redolent of spring. DRYDEN'S FABLE on the PYTHAG. SYSTEM. Gay Gay Hope is theirs, by Fancy fed, The tear forgot as foon as shed, Alas, regardless of their doom, No fenfe have they of ills to come, Yet fee how all around them wait The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train, These shall the fury paffions tear, Difdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that fculks behind; Or pining Love, fhall wafte their youth, Ambition Ambition this fhall tempt to rife, Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, And grinning Infamy, The ftings of Falfehood those shall try, * Lo, in the vale of years beneath A grily troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their Queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the foul with icy hand, And flow-consuming Age. To each his fufferings: all are men, The unfeeling for his own. Madness laughing in his ireful mood. DRYDEN'S FABLE of PALAMON and ARCITE. |