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E diftant fpires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores
Her HENRY's holy Shade;
And ye, that from the ftately brow
Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanfe below
King HENRY the Sixth, Founder of the College.
Of grove, of lawn, of mead furvey,
His filver-winding way.
Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A ftranger yet to pain?
I feel the gales, that from you blow,
A momentary blifs beftow,
As waving fresh their gladfome wing,
To breathe a fecond spring.
And bees their honey redolent of spring.
Say, Father THAMES, for thou haft feen
Full many a fprightly race
The paths of pleasure trace,
The captive linnet which enthral ?
While fome, on earnest business bent,
Some bold adventurers difdain
Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Lefs pleafing when poffeft; The tear forgot as foon as fhed,
The funshine of the breaft: Theirs buxom health, of rofy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively chear of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the eafy night, The fpirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly th' approach of morn.