YE E diftant spires, ye antique towers, Where grateful Science ftill adores And ye, that from the stately brow Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanfe below Of * King HENRY the Sixth, Founder of the College. 藏 Of grove, of lawn, of mead furvey, Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flow'rs among Wanders the hoary Thames along His filver-winding way. Ah happy hills, ah pleafing fhade, Ah fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A ftranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from you blow, As waving fresh their gladfome wing, To breathe a fecond fpring. Say, And bees their honey redolent of spring. Dryden's Fable on the Pythag. Syftem. Say, Father THAMES, for thou haft feen Full many a fprightly race Difporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace, Who forem now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glaffy wave ? The captive linnet which enthrall P What idle progeny fucceed To chafe the rolling circle's fpeed, Or urge the flying ball? While fome, on earnest business bent, Their murm'ring labours ply 'Gainft graver hours, that bring constraint To fweeten liberty: Some Some bold adventurers difdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare defcry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And fnatch a fearful joy. Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, The tear forgot as foon as shed, Theirs buxom health of rofy hue, And lively chear of vigour born; That fly th' approach of morn. Alas, Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No fense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond-to-day; Yet fee how all around 'em wait The Minifters of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, fhew them where in ambush stand To feize their prey the murth'rous band! Ah, tell them, they are men! Thefe fhall the fury Paffions tear, Difdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that fculks behind; Or pineing Love shall waste their youth. That |