I.
1.
'Twas in the silent Hour of Eve,
When gently pensive Visions roll,
When Joys, which Thought alone can give,
Spread their Dominion o'er the Soul,
A Youth, who oft was wont to rove,
And woo the Dryads of the Grove,
Aloft, from Richmond's
wood-crown'd Height,
Beheld the Day's descending Light,
Beheld the Verdure of the Vale,
The tufted Bank where Thamis glides,
The green-rob'd Grove, the opening Dale,
Where every gentler Grace presides;
Where, o'er the Face of all the varied Ground,
The Power of Beauty reigns, and pours her Blessings round.
2.
‘And O!’ (he cry'd) ‘thou lovely Maid,
‘Fair Fancy, grant thy genial Fire,
‘If e'er by native Hill, or Shade,
‘I wak'd in Youth the rural Lyre!
‘If e'er, along the lonely Shore,
‘Where loud the Atlantic Surges roar,
‘Or where Leana's Waters spread,
‘And Turk
erects his fir-clad Head,
‘Thus oft invok'd at early Day,
‘Thou hast listen'd to thy Suppliant's Prayer,
‘Thou hast deign'd to raise his lowly Lay,
‘Or deign'd his vacant Hours to share,
‘Now on this Summit take thy silent Stand,
‘And throw thine Eyes around Britannia's happy Land!
3.
‘In yonder Wood, whose darkening Gloom
‘Bids Horror every Form assume,
‘Bids awe-struck Contemplation soar,
‘Lo! Altars rise distain'd with Gore!
‘The Victim bleeds!—Thence o'er his Soul
The Druid feels the sacred Phrenzy roll:—
“Hence—to your Arms!—your Gods maintain!—
“Lo! riding o'er the billowy Main,
“A mighty Hero, from afar,
“Provokes you to the Rage of War!—
“Andate, hear!—May Julius feel
“Cassibelan's avengeful Steel!
“And may thy suppliant Cumri
still maintain
“Their Fathers' hallow'd Faith, their ancient freeborn Reign!”
