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While Summer loves to sport,

Beneath thy ling'ring light:
While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ;
Or Winter yelling thro’ the troublous air,

Affrights thy shrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes ;
So long, sure-found beneath thy fylvan shed,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lip'd Health,

Thy gentlest influence own,
And hymn thy fav'rite name!

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WRITTEN BY MR. MASON, OF CAMBRIGE, 1748.

FA
AR from her hallow'd grot, where mildly bright

The pointed crystals shot their trembling light,
From dripping moss where sparkling dew-drops fell,
Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wreathed shell,
Pale ISIS lay; a willow's lowly shade
Spread it's thin foliage o'er the pensive maid;
Clos'd was her eye, and from her heaving breast
In careless folds loose flow'd her zoneless vest;
While down her neck her vagrant tresses flow,
In all the awful negligence of woe;
Her urn sustain’d her arm, that sculptur'd vase
Where Vulcan's art had lavish'd all it's grace;
Here, full with life, was heav'n-taught Science seen,
Known by the laurel wreath, and musing mein:
There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace sedate and

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,
And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring.

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
The lay to liberty and cAto flow'd ;
While Echo, as she rov'd the vale along,
Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman fong.

But ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground,
How mute Attention check'd each rising sound ;
Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray,
Scarce trillid sweet Philomel her softest lay,
When Locke walk'd mufing forth ; e'en now I view
Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow,
View Candour smile upon his modest cheek,
And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break.
'Twas here the sage his manly zeal exprest,
Here stript vain Fallhood of her gaudy vest ;

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

rage
o'er all

my
See ! Hydra Faction spread it's impious reign,
Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain :
Hence frontless crowds, that not content to fright
The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night,
Blast the fair face of day; and madly bold,
To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold;
To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd,
Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound;
The horrid notes my refluent waters daunt,
The Echoes groan, the Dryads quit their haunt;
Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam,
Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam,

coast;

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