WHERE Kensington high o'er the neighbʼring lands,

'Midft greens and fweets, a regal fabric ftands,

And fees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A fnow of bloffoms, and a wild of flowers,
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-fhine, and fee azure skies;
Each walk, with robes of various dies befpread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,

Where rich brocades and gloffy damasks glow,

And chints, the rival of the show'ry bow.

Here England's Daughter, darling of the land, Sometimes, furrounded with her virgin band,

Gleams through the fhades. She, tow'ring o'er the reft, Stands fairest of the fairer kind confess'd,

Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's caufe deny'd, And charm a people to her Father's fide.

Long have these groves to royal guests been known,

Nor Naffau 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 ifle 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 paffions, as you move along,
Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes,
Where all unlevell'd 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 liften to my melancholy tale.

That hollow space, where now in living rows,

Line above line the yew's fad verdure grows,

Was,

Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave;
The landskip now fo fweet we well may praise,
But far, far fweeter in its ancient days,

Far sweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs was crown'd.
Where in the midst those verdant pillars fpring,

Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,

In happier years a crowded street was seen,
Nor all thofe leaves, that now the prospect grace,
Could match the numbers of its pigmy race,
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,

A tale of woe and wonder, I relate.

When Albion rul'd the land, whofe lineage came
From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,
Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd
On every hill, and danc'd in every shade.

But, foes to fun-fhine, moft they took delight
In dells and dales conceal'd from human fight:
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;
Or fcoop'd the bofom of the blasted oak
Or heard, o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill,
The diftant murmurs of the falling rill.

They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulg'd their mirth,
And pity'd the huge wretched fons of earth.

Even now, 'tis faid, the hinds o'erheard their strain,
And strive to view their airy forms in vain :
They to their cells at man's approach repair,
Like the shy leveret, or the mother hare,
The whilft poor mortals startle at the found
Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground.

Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown,
Stood the lov'd feat of royal Oberon.
From every region to his palace gate

Came peers and princes of the fairy state,
Who, rank'd in council round the facred fhade,
Their monarch's will and great behefts obey'd.
From Thame's fair banks, by lofty tow'rs adorn'd,
With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd:
Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay,
Shone every knight and every lovely fay.
Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling ftage difplay'd
Hath fam'd king Pepin and his court furvey'd,
May guess, if old by modern things we trace,
The pomp and fplendor of the fairy race.

By magic fenc'd, by fpells encompass'd round,
No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground;

I

No

No mortal enter'd, thofe alone who came
Stolen from the couch of fome terrestrial dame:
For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed,
And left some fickly changeling in their stead.

It chanc'd a youth of Albion's royal blood
Was fofter'd here, the wonder of the wood;
· Milkah, for wiles above her peers renown'd,
Deep-skill'd in charms and many a mystic sound,
As through the regal dome fhe fought for prey,
Obferv'd the infant Albion where he lay
In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride,
And stole him from the fleeping mother's fide.
Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind!
Ah wretched nymph, to future evils blind!
The time shall come when thou fhalt dearly pay
The theft, hard-hearted! of that guilty day :
Thou in thy turn fhalt like the queen repine,
And all her forrows doubled fhall be thine:
He who adorns thy house, the lovely boy

Who now adorns it, fhall at length destroy.

Two hundred moons in their pale course had seen

The gay-rob'd fairies glimmer on the green,
And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime
To nineteen years, as mortals measure time.