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228 ANNUAL REGISTER

Where limped streams in wild Meanders flow,
And on the mountains tow'ring forests grow,
With lovely landscapes cheers the ravish'd fight,
While each new scene supplies a new delight;
No industry of men, no needless toil,
Can mend the rich uncultivated soil.
While COWLEY's lays with sprightly vigour move,
Around him wait the gods of verse and love;
So quick the crowded images arise,
The bright variety distracts our eyes;
Each sparkling line, where fire with fancy flows,
The rich profusion of his genius shows.
To WALLER next my wandring view I bend
Gentle as flakes of feather'd snow descend:
Not the same snow, its silent journey done,
More radiant glitters in the rising sun.
O happy Nymph ! who could those lays demand,
And claim the care of this immortal hand:
In vain might age thy heavenly form invade,
And o'er thy beauties cast an envious shade:
Waller the place of youth and bloom supplies,
And gives exhaustless lustre to thy eyes:
Each Muse assisting, ristes ev'ry grace,
To paint the wonders of thy matchless face!
So when at Greece divine Apelles strove
To give to earth the radiant queen of love,
From each bright nymph some darling charm he took,
This fair one's lips, another's lovely look:
Each beauty pleas'd, a smile or air bestows,
Till all the Goddess from the canvas rose.
Immortal MILTON, hail! whose loftly strain
With conscious strength does vulgar themes disdain;
Sublime, ascended thy superior soul,
Where neither lightnings flash nor thunders roll;
Where other suns drink deep th' eternal ray,
And thence to other worlds transmit the day;
Where high in aether countless planets move,
And various moons attendant round them rove.
O bear me to those soft delightful scenes,
Where shades far spreading boast immortal greens,
Where Paradise unfolds her fragrant flowers,
Her sweets unfading, and celestial bow'rs;
Where Zephyr breathes amidst the blooming wild
Gentle as nature's infant beauty smil'd;
Where gayly reigns one ever-laughing spring,
Eden's delights which he alone could sing.
Yet not these scenes could bound his daring flight,
Born to the task he rose a nobler height.
While

For the YEAR 1772. 229

While o'er the lyre his hallow'd fingers fly,
Each wond'rous touch awakens raptures high.
Those glorious seats he boldly durst explore
Where faith alone, till then, had pow'r to soar.
Smooth glide thy waves, O Thames, while I rehearse
The name that taught thee first to flow in verse:
Let sacred silence hush thy grateful tides,
The osier cease to tremble on thy sides:
Let thy calm waters gently steal along;
DENHAM this homage claims, while he inspires my song:
Far as thy billows roll, dispers'd away,
To distant climes, the honour'd name convey:
Not Xanthus can a nobler glory boast,
In whose rich streams a thousand floods are lost.
The strong, the soft, the moving and the sweet.
In artful DRYDEN's various numbers meet;
Aw'd by his lays, each rival bard retir'd:
So fades the moon, pale, lifeless, unadmir'd,
When the bright sun bursts glorious to the sight,
With radiant lustre and a flood of light.
Sure heav'n who destin'd William to be great,
The mighty bulwark of the British state,
The scourge of tyrants, guardian of the law,
Bestow'd a GARTH designing a Nassau.
Wit, ease and life in PRIOR blended flow,
Polite as Granville, soft as moving ROWE.
GRANVILLE, whose lays unnumber'd charms adorn,
Serene and sprightly as the op'ning morn:
ROWE, who the spring of ev'ry passion knew,
And from our eyes call'd forth the friendly dew.
Still shall his gentle muse our souls command,
And our warm hearts confess his skilful hand.
Be this the least of his superior fame,
Whose happy genius caught great Lucan's flame.
Where noble Pompey dauntless meets his doom,
And each free strain breathes Liberty and Rome.
O ADDISON, lamented, wond'rous bard,
The godlike hero's great, his best reward:
Not all the laurels reap'd on Blenheim's plains,
A fame can give like thy immortal strains;
While Cato dictates in thy awful lines,
Caesar himself with second lustre shines:
As our rais'd souls the great distress pursue,
Triumphs and crowns still lessen to our view:
We trace the victor with disdainful eyes,
And, all that made a Cato bleed, despise.
The bold pindarick and soft lyric muse
Breath'd all her energy in tuneful HUGHES,

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