That blood, which thou and thy great grandfire fhed,
And all that fince thefe fifter nations bled,
Had been unspilt, had happy Edward known
That all the blood he fpilt had been his own.
When he that patron chose in whom are join'd
Soldier and martyr, and his arms confin'd
Within the azure circle, he did seem

But to foretel, and prophefy of him,

Who to his realms that azure round hath join'd,
Which Nature for their bound at first defign'd.
That bound, which to the world's extremeft ends,
Endless itself, it's liquid arms extends,

Nor doth he need thofe emblems which we paint,
But is himself the foldier and the faint.
Here fhould my wonder dwell, and here my praife,
But my fix'd thoughts my wand'ring eye betrays,
Viewing a neighb'ring hill, whose top of late
A chapel crown'd, till in the common fate
Th' adjoining abbey fell: (may no fuch ftorm.
Fall on our times, where ruin must reform !)
Tell me, my Muse, what monftrous dire offence,
What crime could any Christian king incenfe
To fuch a rage? Was't luxury, or luft?

Was he fo temperate, fo chafte, so juft?

Were these their crimes? They were his own much more:

But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor;

Who having spent the treasures of his crown,

Condemns their luxury to feed his own.
And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame
Of facrilege, must bear devotion's name.
No crime fo bold, but would be understood
A real, or at least a feeming good:
Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the name,
And free from confcience, is a flave to fame :
Thus he the church at once protects and fpoils;
But princes fwords are sharper than their ftyles.

And

And thus to th' ages paft he makes amends,
Their charity deftroys, their faith defends.
Then did religion, in a lazy cell,

In empty, airy contemplations dwell;
And like the block, unmoved lay but ours,
As much too active, like the ftork devours.
Is there no temp'rate region can be known,
Betwixt their frigid, and our torrid zone?
Cou'd we not wake from that lethargick dream,
But to be reftlefs in a worse extreme?

And for that lethargy was there no cure,

But to be caft into a calenture?

Can knowledge have no bound, but muft advance
So far, to make us with for ignorance?

And rather in the dark to grope our way,
Than led by a falfe guide to err by day?

Who fees thefe difmal heaps, but would demand,
What barbarous invader fack'd the land?
But when he hears, no Goth, no Turk did bring
This defolation, but a Chriftian king;
When nothing, but the name of zeal, appears
'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs,
What does he think our facrilege wou'd fpare,
When fuch th' effects of our devotions are?
Parting from thence, 'twixt anger, fhame, and fear,
Thofe for what's paft, and this for what's too near,
My eye, defcending from the hill, furveys
Where Thames among the wanton vallies ftrays.
Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's fons,
By his old fire, to his embraces runs ;
Hafting to pay his tribute to the fea,

Like mortal life to meet eternity.

Tho' with thofe ftreams he no resemblance hold,
Whofe foam is amber, and their gravel gold;
His genuine and lefs guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but furvey his shore

O'er

O'er which he kindly spreads his fpacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' enfuing fpring.
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,

Like mothers which their infants overlay :
Nor with a fudden and impetuous wave,
Like profufe kings, refumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil

The mower's hopes, nor mock the plowman's toil;
But godlike his unweary'd bounty flows;

First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his bleffings to his banks confin'd,
But free, and common, as the sea or wind;
When he to boast, or to difperfe his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful fhores,
Vifits the world, and in his flying tow'rs

Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where 'tis, beftows it where it wants,
Cities in defarts, woods in cities plants.

So that to us no thing, no place is strange,
While his fair bofom is the world's exchange.
O could I flow like thee, and make thy ftream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Tho' deep, yet clear; tho' gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Heav'n her Eridanus no more shall boast,
Whofe fame in thine, like leffer currents loft;
Thy nobler streams fhall vifit Jove's abodes,
To fhine among the ftars, and bathe the gods.
Here Nature, whether more intent to please
Us or herself, with strange varieties,
(For things of wonder give no lefs delight
To the wife maker's, than beholder's fight:
Tho' these delights from fev'ral causes move;
For fo our children, thus our friends we love)

The Foreft.

Wifely the knew, the harmony of things,
As well as that of founds, from difcord fprings,
Such was the difcord, which did first disperse
Form, order, beauty, through the universe;
While dryness, moisture, coldness, heat refifts,
All that we have, and that we are, fubfifts:
While the steep horrid roughness of the wood,
Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood;
Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite,
Wonder from thence refults, from thence delight.
The stream is fo transparent, pure, and clear,
That had the felf-enamour'd youth * gaz'd here,
So fatally deceiv'd he had not been,

While he the bottom, not his face had feen.
But his proud head the airy mountain hides
Among the clouds; his fhoulders and his fides
A fhady mantle clothes; his curled brows
Frown on the gentle ftream, which calmly flows
While winds and ftorms his lofty forehead beat :
The common fate of all that's high or great.
Low at his foot a fpacious plain is plac❜d,
Between the mountain and the stream embrac'd :
Which fhade and shelter from the hill derives,
While the kind river wealth and beauty gives;
And in the mixture of all thefe, appears
Variety, which all the reft endears.

This scene had fome bold Greek or British bard
Beheld of old, what ftories had we heard
Of fairies, fatyrs, and the nymphs, their dames;
Their feafts, their revels, and their am'rous flames!
'Tis ftill the fame, altho' their airy shape

All but a quick poetick fight escape.

There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their courts,
And thither all the horned hoft resorts

Narciffus

To

To graze the ranker mead; that noble herd,
On whofe fublime and fhady fronts is rear'd
Nature's great mafter-piece; to fhew how foon
Great things are made, but fooner are undone.
Here have I seen the king, when great affairs
Gave leave to flacken, and unbend his cares,
Attended to the chace by all the flow'r
Of youth, whofe hopes a nobler prey devour;
Pleasure with praise and danger they would buy,
And with a foe that would not only fly.
The ftag, now confcious of his fatal growth,
At once indulgent to his fear and floth,
To fome dark covert his retreat had made,
Where nor man's eye nor Heaven's should invade
His foft repofe; when th' unexpected found
Of dogs and men his wakeful ear does wound :
Rouz'd with the noise, he scarce believes his ear,
Willing to think th' illufions of his fear.

Had giv'n this falfe alarm; but ftraight his view
Confirms, that more than all he fears is true.
Betray'd in all his ftrengths, the wood befet ;
All inftruments, all arts of ruin met;

He calls to mind his ftrength, and then his fpeed;
His winged heels, and then his armed head;
With these t' avoid, with that his fate to meet
But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet.
So faft he flies, that his reviewing eye
Has loft the chasers, and his ear the cry;
Exulting, till he finds their nobler fenfe
Their difproportion'd speed does recompense;
Then curfes his confpiring feet, whofe fcent
Betrays that fafety which their fwiftnefs lent.
Then tries his friends: among the baser herd,
Where he fo lately was obey'd and fear'd,
His fafety feeks; the herd, unkindly wise,

Or chafes him from thence, or from him flies.