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Why hears not now? What fairer grove

*

From Harewood lures her devious love?
What fairer grove than Harewood knows,
More woodland walks, more fragrant gales,
More woodbine bowers, inviting soft repofe,
More ftreams flow-wand'ring thro' her winding vales.
III.

Perhaps to fome lone cave the Rover flies,
Where lull'd in pious peace the hermit lies.
For fcorning oft the gorgeous hall,

Where banners wave with blazon'd gold, There will the meek-ey'd nymph delight to call, And with the folemn feer high converse hold.

IV.

There, goddess, on the fhaggy mound,
Where tumbling torrents roar around,
Where pendant mountains o'er your head
Stretch their formidable fhade;
You liften, while the holy feer
Slowly chaunts his vefpers clear;
Or of his fparing mess partake,
The fav'ry pulfe, the wheaten cake,
The bev'rage cool of limpid rill.
Then, rifing light, your hoft you bless,

And o'er his faintly temples bland distill
Seraphic day-dreams of heav'ns happiness.

* ATHELWOLD's castle.

V.

Where'er thou art, enchanting maid,
Thou foon wilt fmile in Harewood's fhade:
Soon will thy fairy feet be seen,
Printing this dew-impearled green;
Soon fhall we mark thy geftures meek,
Thy glitt'ring eye, and dimpled cheek,
What time thou feek'ft, with willing hafte,
Thy loveliest throne, ELFRIDA's breast.
There feated on that iv'ry shrine,

Where all the Loves and Graces lye,

With them your hands fhall mutual chaplets twine, And weave immortal wreaths of peace and joy.

VIr

And, hark, compleating our prophetic strain,
The fleet hoof rattles o'er the flinty plain;
Now nearer, and now nearer founds.

Avaunt! ye vain, delufive fears.

Hark! Echo tells thro' Harewood's ampleft bounds, That Love, Content, and ATHELWOLD appears.

CHORUS III.

ON CONSTANC Y..

I.

Whence does this fudden luftre rife,

That gilds the grove? not like the noon-time beam Which sparkling dances on the trembling stream, Nor the blue lightning's flash swift-shooting thro'

the skies.

But fuch a folemn steady light,

As oe'r the cloudlefs azure fteals,

When CYNTHIA riding on the brow of night,
Stops in their mid career her filver wheels.

II.

Whence can it rife but from the fober pow'r
Of CONSTANCY? fhe, heav'n-born queen
Descends, and in this * woodbine-vested bower
Fixes her ftedfast reign:

Stedfast, as when her high command
Gives to the ftarry band

Their radiant ftations in heav'n's ample plain.

* In which ATHELWOLD and ELFRIDA had been just exchanging profeffions of their mutual fidelity.

Stedfaft, as when around this nether sphere,
She winds the purple year.

Tells what time the fnow-drop cold
Its maiden whitenefs may unfold,
When the golden harvest bend,
When the ruddy fruits descend.
Then bids pale Winter wake to pour
The pearly hail's translucent show'r,

To caft his filv'ry mantle o'er the woods,
And bind in crystal chains the flumb'ring floods.

III.

The foul, which she inspires, has pow'r to climb
To all the heights fublime

Of Virtue's tow'ring hill.

That hill, at whofe low feet weak-warb'ling ftrays The scanty stream of human praise,

A fhallow trickling rill.

While on the fummits hov'ring angels shed,
From their bleft pinions, the nectareous dews,
Of rich immortal Fame: from these the mufe
Oft fteals fome precious drops, and blends with art
With those the lower streams impart ;
Then show'rs it all on fome high-favor'd head.
But thou, ELFRIDA, claim'ft the genuine dew;
Thy worth demands it all,

Pure, and unmixt on thee the facred drops shall fall.

CHORUS IV.

ATHELWOLD SUSPECTS THE CONSTANCY OF ELFRIDA.

I.

Say, will no white-rob'd fon of light,
Swift-darting from his heav'nly height,

Here deign to take his hallow'd stand;
Here wave his amber locks, unfold
His pinions cloath'd with downy gold;
Here smiling ftretch his tutelary wand ?
And you, ye hoft of faints, for ye have known
Each dreary path in life's perplexing maze,
Tho' now ye circle yon eternal throne
With harpings high of inexpreffive praise,
Will not your train descend in radiant state,
To break with Mercy's beam this gathering cloud

of fate?

II.

'Tis filence all. No fon of light Darts fwiftly from his heav'nly height.

No train of radiant faints defcend.

"Mortals, in vain ye hope to find,

"If guilt, if fraud have stain'd your mind, "Or faint to hear, or angel to defend.”

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