HE

ENCE! avaunt! 'tis holy ground,
Comus and his midnight crew,

And Ignorance, with looks profound,
And dreaming Sloth, of pallid hue;
Mad Sedition's cry profane,

Servitude that hugs her chain;

Nor, in the confecrated bowers,

Let painted Flatt'ry hide her ferpent train in flow'rs.

CHORUS.

Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain,
Dare the Mufes walk to stain

While bright-ey'd Science walks around,
Hence! avaunt! 'tis holy ground.

RECITATIVE.

From yonder realms of empyrian day, Bursts on my ear th' indignant lay! There fit the fainted fage, the bard divine, The few whom Genius gave to shine,

Thro' every unborn age and undiscover'd

clime;

Rapt in celestial transport they :
Yet higher oft a glance from high
They fend of tender fympathy,

To blefs the place, where on their op'ning foul

First the genuine ardor ftole;

"Twas Milton ftruck the deep-ton'd shell, And as the choral warblings round him fwell,

Meek Newton's felf bends from his state

fublime,

And nods his hoary head, and liftens to the

rhime.

A I R.

Ye brown o'er-arching groves
That contemplation loves,

• Where willoway Camus lingers with de

light,

Oft at blush of dawn

I've trode your level lawn,

* Oft would the gleam of Cynthia's filver light

In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly,

With freedom by my fide, and foft-ey'd Melancholy.'

RECITATIVE.

But hark! the portals found, and pacing With folemn steps and flow, [forth High potentates, and dames of royal birth, And mitred fathers, in long order go;

Great Edward, with the lillies on his brow, From haughty Gallia torn;

And fad Chatillon, on her bridal morn, That wept her bleeding love; and princely Clare;

And Anjou's heroine; and the paler rofe, The rival of her crown and of her woes ; And either Henry there,

The murder'd faint, and the majestic lord That broke the bonds of Rome. Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, Their human paffions move no more, Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb. [Accompanied.]

All that on Granta's fruitful plain

Rich ftreams of regal bounty pour'd, And bade their awful fanes and turrets rife, To hail their Fitzroy's feftal morning come. And thus they speak, in foft accord, The liquid language of the skies.

QUARTETTO.

What is grandeur? what is power?
Heavier toil! superior pain!

What the bright reward of gain?
The grateful memory of the good:
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,
The bees collected treafure fweet;
Sweet Mufic's fall-but fweeter yet,
The ftill, small voice of gratitude!

RECITATIVE.

Foremost and leaning from her golden clou The venerable Margaret fee Welcome, my noble Son, fhe cries aloud, To this thy kindred train and me; Pleas'd in thy lineaments to trace

A Tudor's fire, a Beaufort's

AIR.

grace!

Thy liberal heart, thy judging eye,
The flower unheeded shall defcry,
And bid it round Heav'n's altars shed
The fragrance of its blushing head,
Shall raife from earth the latent gem,
To glitter on the diadem!

RECITATIVE.

Lo Granta waits to lead her blooming band, Not obvious, not obtrufive fhe;