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A VERNAL ODE,
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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57

A VERNAL ODE,

Sent to his GRACE the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY,

March 12, 1754.

I

Bright God of day, whose genial power
Revives the buried seed;
That spreads with foliage every bower,
With verdure every mead;
Bid all thy vernal breezes fly,
Diffusing mildness thro' the sky;
Give the soft Season to our drooping plains,
Sprinkled with rosy dews, and salutary rains.

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II

Enough has Winter's hand severe
Chastis'd this dreary coast,
And chill'd the tender dawning year
With desolating frost:
Give but thy vital beams to play,
These ice-wrought scenes will melt away;
And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming Hours
Will wake the drowsy Spring, the Spring awake the flowers.

III

Let Health, gay daughter of the skies,
On Zephyr's wings descend,
And scatter pleasures, as she flies,
Where Surry's downs extend:
There Herring wooes her friendly power;
There may she all her roses shower;
To heal that Shepherd all her balms employ,
So will she sooth our fears, and give a nation joy.

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IV

The grateful Seasons, circling fast,
Reviving suns restore,
But Life's short Spring is quickly past,
And blooms, alas! no more;
Then let us, ere by sure decays
We reach the Winter of our days,
In virtue emulate the bless'd above,
And like the Spring display benevolence and love.