Part on fair Avon's margin feek repose,
Whofe ftream o'er Britain's midmost region flows,
Where formidable Neptune never came,
And feas and oceans are but known by fame;
Some to dark woods and secret shades retreat,
And fome on mountains chufe their airy feat.
There haply by the ruddy damfel feen,
Or fhepherd-boy, they featly foot the green,
While from their steps a circling verdure fprings;
But fly from towns, and dread the courts of kings.
Mean-while fad Kenna, loth to quit the grove,
Hung o'er the body of her breathlefs love,
Try'd every art (vain arts) to change his doom,
And vow'd (vain vows) to join him in the tomb.
What could she do? the Fates alike deny
The dead to live, or fairy forms to die.
An herb there grows (the fame old * Homer tells
Ulyffes bore to rival Circe's fpells)
Its root is ebon-black, but fends to light
A ftem that bends with flow'rets milky white,
Moly the plant, which gods and fairies know,
But fecret kept from mortal men below.
On his pale limbs its virtuous juice fhe fhed,
And murmur'd myftic numbers o'er the dead,
When lo! the little fhape by magic power
Grew lefs and lefs, contracted to a flower;
A flower, that first in this sweet garden fmil'd,
To virgins facred, and the Snow-drop ftyl❜d.
The new-born plant with fweet regret the view'd,
Warm'd with her fighs, and with her tears bedew'd,
Its ripen'd feeds from bank to bank convey'd,
And with her lover whiten'd half the shade.
Thus won from death each spring she sees him
And glories in the vegetable fnow,
Which now increas'd through wide Britannia's plains,
Its parent's warmth and spotless name retains ;
First leader of the flowery race aspires,
And foremost catches the fun's genial fires,
'Midft frofts and fnows triumphant dares appear,
Mingles the seasons, and leads on the year.
Deserted now of all the pygmy race,
Nor man nor fairy touch'd this guilty place.
In heaps on heaps, for many a rolling age,
It lay accurs'd, the mark of Neptune's rage;
"Till great Naffau recloath'd the defart shade,
Thence facred to Britannia's monarchs made.
'Twas then the green-rob'd nymph, fair Kenna, came
(Kenna that gave the neighb'ring town its name)
Proud when she saw th' ennobled garden fhine
With nymphs and heroes of her lover's line.
She vow'd to grace the manfions once her own,
And picture out in plants the fairy town.
To far-fam'd Wise her flight unseen she sped,
And with gay profpects fill'd the craftfman's head,
Soft in his fancy drew a pleafing scheme,
And plan'd that landskip in a morning dream.
With the sweet view the fire of gardens fir'd,
Attempts the labour by the nymph inspir'd,
The walls and ftreets in rows of yew designs,
And forms the town in all its ancient lines;
The corner trees he lifts more high in air,
And girds the palace with a verdant square :
Nor knows, while round he views the rifing scenes,
He builds a city as he plants his greens.
With a fad pleasure the aërial maid
This image of her ancient realm survey'd;
How chang'd, how fallen from its primæval pride!
Yet here each moon, the hour her lover dy'd,
Each moon his folemn obfequies fhe pays,
And leads the dance beneath pale Cynthia's rays;
Pleas'd in the fhades to head her fairy train,
And grace the groves where Albion's kinfmen reign.
EPISTLE from a Lady in ENGLAND,
thee, dear rover, and thy vanquish'd friends,
The health she wants, thy gentle Chloe fends ;
Though much you fuffer, think I fuffer more,
Worfe than an exile on my native shore.
Companions in your master's flight you roam,
Unenvy'd by your haughty foes at home;
For-ever near the royal out-law's fide,
You share his fortunes, and his hopes divide;
On glorious schemes, and thoughts of empire dwell,
And with imaginary titles swell.
Say, (for thou know'ft I own his facred line,
The paffive doctrine, and the right divine)
Say, what new fuccours does the chief prepare
The strength of armies or the force of pray'r?
Does he from heav'n or earth his hopes derive?
From faints departed? or from priests alive ?
Nor faints nor priests can Brunswick's troops withstand,
And beads drop useless through the zealot's hand;
Heav'n to our vows may future kingdoms owe,
But skill and courage win the crowns below.
Ere to thy cause, and thee, my heart inclin'd,
Or love to party had feduc'd my mind,
In female joys I took a dull delight,
Slept all the morn, and punted half the night :
But now, with fears and public cares poffefs'd,
The church, the church, for-ever breaks my ref.
The poft-boy on my pillow I explore,
And fift the news of every foreign fhore,
Studious to find new friends, and new allies;
What armies march from Sweden in disguise ;
How Spain prepares her banners to unfold,
And Rome deals out her bleffings, and her gold :
T'hen o'er the map my finger, taught to ftray,
Crofs many a region marks the winding way;
From fea to fea, from realm to realm I rove,
And grow a mere geographer by love.
But still Avignon, and the pleafing coaft
That holds Thee banish'd, claims my care the most ;
Oft on the well-known spot I fix my eyes,
And span the distance that between us lies.
Let not our James, though foil'd in arms, defpair,
Whilst on his fide he reckons half the fair :
In Britain's lovely ifle a fhining throng
War in his caufe, a thoufand beauties ftrong.
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