Burbage |
Retired from busy crowds, in sylvan scenes
Again I wooe the Muse. Pleased she surveys
Creation's beauties, artless unadorned,
And willing strikes again the trembling lyre,
To sing fair Burbage
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Not far remote stupendous Martinsall,
In native grandeur, its proud summit rears.
Time was the high scent shone bright with arms
And Mars terrific frowned, in dread array,
Fierce chosen legions filled the wide campaign,
Whilst o'er the warlike host hov'ring aloft
Imperial Rome's all conquering Eagle flew.
How blest the contrast! now we fearless rove,
Along the breezy top, or, stretched supine
On beds of downy moss, at distant view
Th' Italian groves of Tottenham wave in the air. (1) |
Thro' the blue ether Sarum shews from far,
Her tapering spire, gilt by the solar ray;
Whilst veiled in mists appears the lofty tower
Of pious Alfred, Britain's valiant King.
Here the victorious Prince his standard raised,
'Gainst fell invaders drew his vengeful sword,
Drove their ill-omened raven from the land
And from a barbarous foe his country freed. (2)
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Where now thou seest the meads with Daisies crowned
Bold to the winds shall commerce spread her sail,
To form the welcome tide her silver streams
The bounteous Avon brings; her crystal bed
Blithe Kennet joyous seeks, his nuptial dower
The shining treasures of a thousand springs.
Propitious be their union! may their waves
Plenty and wealth diffuse where'er they flow. (3) |
Oh! if the prayer of gratitude prevail
The loved possessors of tis favoured spot,
Whose generous breasts still feel for other's woes,
Nor feel inactive, shall each blessing share,
Which Heaven bestows on worth like theirs benign.
May, keen sorrows, which now wreck their peace,
Calmly subside; their lives serenely close,
And their eternal morning dawn in bliss. (4) |
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