3

'Twas this that raised th' ill.u.s.trious line To match the first in fame!

A thousand years have seen it shine With unabated flame; Have seen thy mighty sires appear Foremost in glory's high career, The pride and pattern of the brave.

Yet pure from l.u.s.t of blood their fire, And from ambition's wild desire, They triumph'd but to save.

4

The Muse with joy attends their way The vale of peace along: There to its lord the village gay Renews the grateful song.

Yon castle's glittering towers contain No pit of woe, nor clanking chain, Nor to the suppliant's wail resound: The open doors the needy bless, The unfriended hail their calm recess, And gladness smiles around.

5

There to the sympathetic heart Life's best delights belong, To mitigate the mourner's smart, To guard the weak from wrong.

Ye sons of luxury be wise: Know happiness for ever flies The cold and solitary breast; Then let the social instinct glow, And learn to feel another's woe, And in his joy be blest.

6

O yet, ere Pleasure plant her snare For unsuspecting youth; Ere Flattery her song prepare To check the voice of Truth; O may his country's guardian power Attend the slumbering infant's bower, And bright inspiring dreams impart; To rouse the hereditary fire, To kindle each sublime desire, Exalt and warm the heart.

7

Swift to reward a parent's fears, A parent's hopes to crown, Roll on in peace, ye blooming years, That rear him to renown; When in his finish'd form and face Admiring mult.i.tudes shall trace Each patrimonial charm combined, The courteous yet majestic mien, The liberal smile, the look serene, The great and gentle mind.

8

Yet, though thou draw a nation's eyes, And win a nation's love, Let not thy towering mind despise The village and the grove.

No slander there shall wound thy fame, No ruffian take his deadly aim, No rival weave the secret snare: For innocence with angel smile, Simplicity that knows no guile, And Love and Peace are there.

9

When winds the mountain oak a.s.sail, And lay its glories waste, Content may slumber in the vale, Unconscious of the blast.

Through scenes of tumult while we roam, The heart, alas! is ne'er at home, It hopes in time to roam no more; The mariner, not vainly brave, Combats the storm and rides the wave, To rest at last on sh.o.r.e.

10

Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe, How vain your mask of state!

The good alone have joy sincere; The good alone are great: Great, when, amid the vale of peace.

They bid the plaint of sorrow cease, And hear the voice of artless praise; As when along the trophied plain Sublime they lead the victor train, While shouting nations gaze.

THE JUDGMENT OP PARIS.

1

Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove, A scene for love and solitude design'd; Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove, Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined.

2

All up the craggy cliffs, that tower'd to heaven, Green waved the murmuring pines on every side; Save where, fair opening to the beam of even, A dale sloped gradual to the valley wide.

3

Echo'd the vale with many a cheerful note; The lowing of the herds resounding long, The shrilling pipe, and mellow horn remote, And social clamours of the festive throng.

4

For now, low hovering o'er the western main, Where amber clouds begirt his dazzling throne, The Sun with ruddier verdure deck'd the plain; And lakes and streams and spires triumphal shone.

5

And many a band of ardent youths were seen; Some into rapture fired by glory's charms, Or hurl'd the thundering car along the green, Or march'd embattled on in glittering arms.

6

Others more mild, in happy leisure gay, The darkening forest's lonely gloom explore, Or by Scamander's flowery margin stray, Or the blue h.e.l.lespont's resounding sh.o.r.e.

7

But chief the eye to Ilion's glories turn'd, That gleam'd along the extended champaign far, And bulwarks in terrific pomp adorn'd, Where Peace sat smiling at the frowns of War.

8

Rich in the spoils of many a subject clime, In pride luxurious blazed the imperial dome; Tower'd 'mid the encircling grove the fane sublime, And dread memorials mark'd the hero's tomb

9