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While Summer loves to sport,
Beneath thy ling'ring light:
Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes ;
Thy gentlest influence own,
WRITTEN BY MR. MASON, OF CAMBRIGE, 1748.
The pointed crystals shot their trembling light,
bland, Swell’d the loud trump, and wav'd the olive wand;
While solemn domes, arch'd shades, and vistas
green, At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene.
On this the Goddness cast an anxious look, Then dropt a tender tear, and thus she spoke : Yes, I could once with pleas'd attention trace The mimic charms of this prophetic vase ; Then lift my head, and with enraptur'd eyes View on yon plain the real glories rise. Yes, ISIS ! oft haft thou rejoic'd to lead Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav’rite mead; Oft hast thou stopt thy pearly car to gaze, While ev'ry Science nurs'd it's growing bays ; While ev'ry Youth with fame's strong impulse fir'd, Prest to the goal, and at the goal untir'd, Snatch'd each celestial wreath, to bind his brow, The Muses, Graces, Virtues could bestow.
E'en now fond Fancy leads th' ideal train, And ranks her troops on Mem'ry's ample plain ; See! the firm leaders of my patriot line, See! sIDNEY, RALEIGH, HAMDEN, Somers, shine. See Hough superior to a tyrant's doom Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome, Each soul whom truth could fire, or virtue move, Each breast, strong panting with it's country's love, All that to Albion gave the heart or head, That wisely councell'd, or that bravely bled, All, all appear; on me they grateful smile, The well-earn'd prize of every virtuous toil
To me with filial reverence they bring,
Ah! I remember well yon beachen spray, There Addison first tun'd his polish'd lay ; 'Twas there great cato's form first met his eye, In all the pomp of free-born majesty; “ My son, he cry'd, observe this mein with awe, “ In folemn lines the strong resemblance draw; “ The piercing notes shall strike each British ear ; “ Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear ! “ And rous'd to glory by the nervous strain, “ Each Youth shall spurn at sav'ry's abject reign, “ Shall guard with caro's zeal Britannia's laws, “ And speak, and act, and bleed, in freedom's cause."
The Hero spoke; the Bard afsenting bow'd
But ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground,
Yet my pure
Here Truth's collected beams first fillid his mind, E’er long to burst in blessings on mankind ;
E’er long to show to reason's purged eye, . That“ Nature's FIRST BEST GIFT WAS LIBERTY."
Proud of this wond'rous fon, sublime I stood, (While louder surges swell’d my rapid flood) Then vain as Niobe, exulting cry'd, Ilissus ! roll thy fam’d Athenian tide ; Tho'Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring glade. Tho' fair Lycæum lent it's awful shade, Tho' ev'ry Academic green impreft It's image full on thy reflecting breaft,
stream shall boast as proud a name, And Britain's ISIS flow with Attic fame.
Alas ! how chang'd! where now that Attic boast? See! Gothic Licence