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Have in their crimson crosses glow'd ;
* Names of Constellations.
By the Same.
Campos, ubi Troja fuit.
W HERE Kensington high o'er the neighb'ring lands,
'Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric ftands, And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, A snow of blossoms, and a wild of Aowers, The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air. Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, They breathe in fun-shine, and see azure skies ; Each walk, with robes of various dies bespread, Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow, And chints, the rival of the show'ry bow. D 2
Here England's Daughter, darling of the land, Sometimes, surrounded with her virgin band, Gleams through the shades. She, tow'ring o'er the rest, Stands fairest of the fairer kind confess’d, Form’d to gain hearts, that Brunswick’s cause deny'd, And charm a people to her Father's side.
Long have these groves to royal guests been known, Nor Nassau first prefer'd them to a throne. Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air; Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair Pour'd in his Danes; ere elder Julius came; Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name; A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood, The scene of wars, and stain’d with lovers' blood.
You, who through gazing crowds, your captive throng, Throw pangs and passions, as you move along, Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes, Where all unlevelld the gay garden lies : If generous anguish for another's pains E’er heav'd your hearts, or shiver'd through your veins, Look down attentive on the pleasing dale, And listen to my melancholy tale.
That hollow space, where now in living rows, Line above line the yew's fad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
When Albion ruld the land, whose lineage came