F ARRER ! to thee these early lays I owe:
Thy friendship warms the heart from whence they flow.
Thee, thee I find, in all I find to please;
In this thy elegance, in that thy ease.
Come then with Fancy to thy favourite scene,
Where Studley triumphs in her wreaths of green,
And, pleas'd for once, while Eden smiles again,
Forget that Life's inheritance is pain.

Say, shall we muse along yon arching shades,
Whose awful gloom no brightening ray pervades;
Or down these vales where vernal flowers display
Their golden bosoms to the smiles of day,
Where the fond eye in sweet distraction strays,
Most pleas'd, when most it knows not where to gaze.

Here groves arrang'd in various order rise,
And bend their quivering summits in the skies.
The regal Oak high o'er the circling shade,
Exalts the hoary honours of his head.
The spreading Ash a differing green displays,
And the smooth Asp in sooting whispers plays,
The Fir that blooms in Spring's eternal prime,
The spiry Poplar, and the stately Lime.
Here moss-clad walks, there lawns of lively green,
United, form one nicely-varying scene:
The varying scene still charms the attentive sight,
Or brown with shades, or opening into light.

Here the gay tenants of the tuneful grove,
Harmonious breathe the raptures of their love:
Each warbler sweet that hails the genial Spring,
Tunes the glad song, and plies the' expanded wing:
The love-suggested notes, in varied strains,
Fly round the vocal hills and listening plains:
The vocal hills and listening plains prolong,
In varied strains, the love suggested song,
To thee, all-bounteous Nature! thee they pay
The welcome tribute of their grateful lay!
To thee, whose kindly-studious hand prepares
The freshening fields and softly breathing airs;
Whose parent-bounty annual still provides
Of foodful insects such unbounded tides.
Beneath some friendly leaf supremely blest,
Each pours at large the raptures of his breast;
Nor changeful seasons mourns, nor storms unkind,
With those contented, and to these resign'd.

Here sprightly range the grove, or skim the plain,
The sportive deer, a nicely-checker'd train.
Oft near their haunt, on him who curious strays,
All throng'd abreast in fix'd attention gaze;
The' intruding spy suspiciously survey,
Then butting limp along, and lightly frisk away.

Not so, when raves the pack's approaching roar,
Then Loves endear, then Nature smiles no more:
In wild amaze, all tremblingly-dismay'd,
Burst through the groves, and bound along the glade.

'Till now some destin'd stag, prepar'd to fly,
Fires all the malice of the murdering cry
Forc'd from his helpless mates, the fated prey
Bears on the wings of quivering Fear away:
In flight (ah! could his matchless flight avail!)
Scorns the fierce steed, and leaves the flying gale.
Now trembling stops—and listens from afar
In long, long deepening howls, the madd'ning war;
While loud-exulting triumphs thunder round,
Tremble the mountains, and the rocks rebound.
In vain, yet vigorous, he renews his race,
In vain dark mazes oft perplex the chase:
With speed, inspir'd by grief, he springs again
Through vaulted woods, and devious wilds in vain.
The' unravelling pack still, onward-pouring, trace
The various mazes of his circling race.
Breathless at last with long-repeated toil,
Sickening he stands—he yields—he falls the spoil.

From all the various blooms of painted bow'rs,
Fair, banky wilds, and vallies fring'd with flow'rs,
Where Nature in profusion smiles delight,
With pleasure sated turns the roving sight.

Come then, bright vision! child of heavenly day!
From this fair summit ampler scenes survey;
One spacious field in circling order eye,
And active round the far horizon fly;
Where dales descend, or ridgy mountains rise,
And lose their aspect in the falling skies.

What pleasing scenes the landskip wide displays!
The' inchanting prospect bids for ever gaze.
Hail charming fields, of happy swains the care!
Hail happy swains, possest of fields so fair!

In peace your plenteous labours long enjoy,
No murdering wars shall waste, nor foes destroy;
While western gales Earth's teeming womb unbind,
The seasons change, and bounteous suns are kind.
To social towns, see! wealthy Commerce brings
Rejoicing Affluence on his silver wings.
On verdant hills, see! flocks innumerous feed,
Or thoughtful listen to the lively reed.
See! golden harvests sweep the bending plains;
‘And Peace and Plenty own a Brunswick reigns.’

The wandering eye from Nature's wild domain
Attracted, turns to fairer scenes again.
Scenes, which to thee, refining Art! belong,
Invite the poet, and inspire the song.

Sweet, philosophic muse! that lov'st to stray
In woody-curtain'd walks and dim-seen day,
Lead me, where lonely Contemplation roves,
Through silent shades and solitary groves.

Stop, daring foot! the sacred maid is here!
These awful glooms confess the goddess near.
Low in these woods her favourite scene is laid,
The fence umbrageous, and the darkening shade,
Whose bowery branches bar the vagrant eye,
Assailing storms and parching suns defy.
A gentle current calmly steals serene,
In silvery mazes, o'er the weeping green,
'Till opening bright, its bursting waters spread,
And fall fast-flashing down a wide cascade.
A spacious lake below expanded lies,
And lends a mirror to the quivering skies.
Here pendent domes, there dancing forests seem
To float and tremble in the waving gleam.

While gaily-musing o'er it's verdant side,
Pleas'd I behold the glassy rivulet glide;
Bright in the verdure of the blooming year,
Where circling groves their full-blown honours wear;
Ambrosial daughter of the spicy spring,
While fragrant woodbine scents each zephyr's wing;
While nectar-footed Morn, approaching, dies,
In radiant blush, the rosy-checker'd skies;
The first fair Eden, o'er the' inchanted plain
Reviving, smiles, or seems to smile again.

Hail, blissful scene! divine Elysium, hail!
Ye flowery blooms eternal sweets exhale:
The blest asylum's here, the sacred shore,
Where toils tumultuous tear the breast no more.

From wild Ambition free, from dire Despair,
Appalling Terror, and perplexing Care,
Happy the Man who in these shades can find
That angel-bliss, Serenity of Mind;
Walk the fair green, or in the grotto lie,
With hope-strung breast, and Heav'n-erected eye!
While cheated worlds, by Pleasure's lure betray'd,
Through rocks and sands pursue the siren-maid;
And, long-bewilder'd, urge the weary chase,
Though still the phantom slips their vain embrace:
'Tis his with pitying eye to see—to know
Whence purest Joy's perennial fountains flow.
With this exalting charm divinely blest,
The dear reflection of a blameless breast:
Where sweet-ey'd Love still smiles serenely gay,
And heavenly Virtue beams a brighter ray.
Soft, smoothly-pacing slide his peaceful days,
His own his censure, and his own his praise:

Alike to him, both subjects of the grave,
The scepter'd monarch, and the menial slave.
Thrice happy he who Life's poor pains has laid
In the lone tomb of some sequester'd shade!
More amply blest, if gloriously retir'd,
With Learning charm'd, and with the Muses fir'd;
Who nobly dares with philosophic eye,
Through full Creation's bounded orbs to fly;
Pleas'd, in their well-form'd systems, still to find
The matchless wisdom of the' immortal mind.
Still charm'd, in Nature's various plan, to trace
His boundless love and all-supporting grace.

Ye pompous great! whose dream of glory springs
From sounding titles, or the smiles of kings:
Ye, laurell'd in the bleeding wreaths of war!
And ye, whose hearts are center'd in a star!
Say, all ye sons of power and splendour, say,
E'er could ye boast one unimbitter'd day?
Cease the vain hope in dazzling pomp to find
Divine Content, to humbler lots assign'd;
The modest fair frequents the lowly cell,
Where smiling Peace and conscious Virtue dwell.

While through the maze of winding bowers I stray,
The shade's dim gloom, or vista's opening day
Soft-sighing groves, where silky breezes fill,
Kiss the smooth plain, and glassy-dimpling rill;
In silent vales, by sadly-mourning streams,
Where swift-ey'd Fancy wings her waving dreams;
What sacred awe the lonely scenes inspire!
What joys transport me, and what raptures fire!
Visions divine, inchanted I behold,
And all the Muses all their charms unfold.

Ye, woods of Pindus, and Ætolian plains,
No more shall listen to immortal strains:
Flow unconcern'd, no Muse celestial sings,
Ye Thracian fountains, and Aoman springs!
No more your shades shall leave their native shore,
Nor songs arrest your raptur'd currents more.

And thou, Parnassus, wrapt in deep alcoves,
Mourn, in sad silence, thy forsaken groves:
No more thy warblers rival notes admire,
Nor choral zephyrs fill the breathing lyre.
Each drooping laurel bends its languid head;
The strains are vanish'd, and the Muses fled.

To nobler hills, where fairer forests grow,
To vales, where streams in sweeter accents flow:
To blooming Studley's more delightful shades
Welcome, ye sacred, ye celestial maids!
Wake the soft lute, here strike the sounding string,
Make the groves echo, and the vallies ring;
Harmonious lead, through rosy-smiling bow'rs,
The soft-ey'd Graces and the dancing hours.

In awful scenes retir'd, where gloomy night
Still broods, unbanish'd by returning light;
Where Silence, fix'd in Meditation deep,
Folds in her arms her favourite offspring Sleep;
Musing along the lonely shades I roam
'Till beauteous rises a devoted dome;
Thy fane, seraphic Piety! low plac'd
In sable glooms, by deepening woods embrac'd.
Nor radiant here the Prince of Day displays
His morning blushes, nor meridian blaze:
Rolls o'er the world the splendid orb unseen,
'Till his last glories gild the streaming green;
Then sportive gleams through parting columns play,
Here waves a shadow, and there smiles a ray.
Just emblem of the man who, free from strife,
The' uneasy pains that vex the noon of life;
Not dazzled with the diamond-beaming zone,
Flash of a lace, or brilliance of a stone,
Courts the last smiles of Life's declining ray,
Where Hope exulting reaps eternal day.

The sacred solitude, the lone recess,
An awful pleasure on my soul impress.
Raptures divine through all my bosom glow,
The bliss alone immortal beings know.
Ah, knew that sovereign bliss no base alloy,
Wert thou, my Farrer! witness to my joy;
What nobler pleasure could we boast below?
What joy sublimer Heav'n itself bestow?
Haste, my gay friend! my dear associate, haste!
Life of my soul, and partner of my breast!
Quick to these shades, these magic shades retire:
Here light thy graces, and thy virtue fire:
Here sheds sweet Piety her beams divine,
And all the Goddess fills her heavenly shrine.
Celestial maids before her altar move:
White-handed Innocence, and weeping Love.

Her towering domes let Richmond boast alone;
The sculptur'd statue and the breathing stone:
Alone distinguish'd on the plains of Stowe,
From Jones's hand the featur'd marble glow:
Though there unnumber'd columns front the skies,
To fancied Gods forbidden temples rise;
Unenvied, Studley, be this pomp of art,
'Tis thine the pow'r to please a virtuous heart.
From this lov'd scene with anxious steps I trace
Each devious winding of the banky maze;
To the fall summit of the steep repair,
And view the gay surrounding prospect there.
What joys expand my breast! what rapture warms!
While all the landskip opens all its charms:
While pleas'd I see, the parting shades between,
The lake fair-gleaming and the smoother green;
Through lowlygrots where wandering shadows stray,
Groves gently wave, and glistening waters play.

On thee, fair Hackfall! Fancy bends her eye,
Longs o'er the cliffs and deepening lawns to fly.
Inchanted sees each silvery-floating wave
Beat thy green banks, thy lonely vallies lave:
And now delighted, now she joys to hear
Thy deep, slow falls, long-labouring through her ear.

All-beauteous Nature! object of my song,
To thee my first, my latest strains belong:
To thee my lays I tune, while envious art
In rival charms here courts the raptur'd heart.
Like thee to please, she decks the painted bow'r,
Spreads the smooth lawn, and rears the velvet flow'r:
With winding arbours crowns the silvan dale,
And bends the forest o'er the lowly vale:
Bids the loud cataract deep-thundering roar,
Or winds the rivulet round a mazy shore.
Ambitious still, like thee, when she beguiles,
Wins with thy grace, and in thy beauty smiles.

In this gay dome where sportive Fancy plays,
And imag'd life the pictur'd roof arrays;
Proud in thy charms the mimic shines confest,
Beams the soft eye, and heaves the panting breast.

From thee, prime source! kind-handed Goddess! flow
The purest blessings that we boast below:
To thee its beauty owes this charming scene,
These groves their fragrance, and those plains their green:
For thee the Muses wreaths eternal twine,
Immortal Maid! for every Muse is thine.

Oh, would'st thou lead me through the boundless sky!
Regions untravell'd by a mortal eye;
Or kindly aid, while studious I explore
Those arduous paths thy Newton trod before!
There wondering should my ravish'd eye survey
New worlds of being, and new scenes of day.
But, if for my weak wing and trembling sight,
Too vast the journey, and too full the light;
Inglorious here I'll tune the lowly reed,
How rolls the fountain, and how springs the mead.

Or, bear me to the banks, ye sacred Nine!
Of beauteous Isis, or the silver Tine.
To Tine's delightful banks, where, ever gay,
The generous F——lives the peaceful day
F——still free from passion's fretful train,
Ne'er felt the thorn of anguish nor of pain:
His heart-felt joys still Nature's charms improve,
Her voice is music, and her visage love:
Pleas'd with the change each various season brings,
Imbrowning autumns, and impurpled springs:
For him kind Nature all her treasures yields,
She decks the forest, and she paints the fields.
O say! where bloom those time-surviving groves
Where ancient bards first sung their sacred loves:
Those sadly-solemn bowers, ye Muses! say,
Where once the melancholy Cowley lay?
When long perplex'd with Life's deluding snares,
Her flattering pleasures, and her fruitless cares;
Obscure he fled to silvan shades alone,
And left mankind, to be for ever known.

Such were the scenes where Spenser once retir'd,
When great Eliza's fame the Muse inspir'd;
When Gloriana led her poet's dreams,
O'er flowery meadows, and by murmuring streams.

Immortal bards! whose death-contemning lays
Shall shine, distinguish'd with eternal praise.
Knew my poor Muse, like these to soar sublime,
And spurn the ruins of insulting Time;
Where'er I stray; where blooming Flora leads,
O'er sunny mountains, and through purple meads:
Or careless in the silvan covert laid,
Where falling rills amuse the mournful shade!
Ye, rural fields, should still resound my lay,
And thou, fair Studley! smile for ever gay.