Original Poems and Translations | ||
70
AN ODE.
TO HIS GRACE The Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY.
I
Thanks to the generous hand that plac'd me here,Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray,
Who leading to the Thames his tribute clear,
Through the still valley winds his secret way.
II
Yet from his lowly bed with transport seesIn fair exposure noblest villas rise,
Hamlets embosom'd deep in antient trees,
And spires that point with reverence to the skies.
III
O lovely dale! luxuriant with delight!O woodland hills! that gently rising swell;
O streams! whose murmurs soft repose invite;
Where peace and joy and rich abundance dwell.
71
IV
How shall my slender reed your praise resoundIn numbers worthy of the polish'd ear?
What powers of strong expression can be found
To thank the generous hand that plac'd me here:
V
That gave each requisite of blissful life;Sweet leisure in sequester'd shades of Kent,
The softening virtues of a faithful wife,
And competence well sorted with content.
VI
For these, if I forget my patron's praise,While bright ideas dance upon my mind,
Ne'er may these eyes behold auspicious days,
May friends prove faithless, and the Muse unkind.
May 1756.
Original Poems and Translations | ||