Follow the tuneful swain, while o'er their heads
The green leaves whisper, and the big boughs bend.
'Twas thus the Thracian, whofe all-quick'ning lyre
The floods infpir'd, and taught the rocks to feel,
Play'd before dancing Hamus, to the tune,

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The lute's foft tune! The Autt'ring branches wave,

The rocks enjoy it, and the rivulets hear,

The hillocks skip, emerge the humble vales,

And all the mighty mountain nods applause.

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The conqueror view'd them, and as one that fees

For fhelter fought---Wretches!they shelter find,

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Eternal shelter in the arms of death!..

Thus when Aquarius pours out all his urn

Down on fome lonesome heath, the traveller
That wanders o'er the wint'ry wafte, accepts.

The invitation of fome spreading beech

410

Joyous; but foon the treach'rous gloom betrays

Th' unwary vifitor, while on his head

Th' inlarging drops in double fhow'rs. defcend..

And!

And now no longer in disguise the men

Of Kent appear; down they all drop their boughs, 415
And shine in brazen panoply divine.

Enough---Great William (for full well he knew
How vain would be the conteft) to the fons

Of glorious Cantium, gave their lives, and laws,
And liberties fecure, and to the prowess

420

Of Kentifh wights, like Cæfar, deign'd to yield.
Cæfar and William! Hail immortal worthies,
Illustrious vanquish'd! Cantium, if to them,
Pofterity will all her chiefs unborn,

Ought fimilar, ought second has to boast.
Once more (fo prophecies the Muse) thy fons
Shall triumph, emulous of their fires---till then
With olive, and with hop-land garlands crown'd,
O'er all thy land reign Plenty, reign fair Peace.

425

The

THE

HOP-GARDEN.

A

GEORGI C.

BOOK the SECOND.

Omnia quæ multo ante memor provifa repones,

Si te digna manet divini gloria ruris.

R

VIRG. Geor. lib. 1.

THE

HOP-GARDEN.

A

GEORGI C.

A

BOOK the SECOND.

T length the Muse her deftin'd task resumes
With joy; agen o'er all her hop-land groves
She longs t' expatiate free of wing. Long while

For a much-loving, much-lov'd youth fhe wept,
And forrow'd filence o'er th' untimely urn.
Hufh then, effeminate fobs; and thou, my heart,
Rebel to grief no more---And yet a while,

A little while, indulge the friendly tears.
O'er the wild world, like Noah's dove, in vain
I feek the olive peace, around me wide
See! fee! the wat'ry wafte---In vain, forlorn
I call the Phœnix fair Sincerity;
Alas!---extinguish'd to the skies fhe fled,

And left no heir behind her. Where is now

Th' eternal fmile of goodness? Where is now

R 2

5

10

15

That