THOMAS GRAY
She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat
In loose numbers wildly sweet
Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves.
Her track, where'er the Goddess roves.
Glory pursue and generous Shame,
Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th j ^gean deep,
Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,
Or where Meander's amber waves In lingering lab'rinths creep,
How do your tuneful echoes languish,
Mute, but to the voice of anguibh ? Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain
MurmurM deep a solemn sound. Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. When Latiurn had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, O Albion 1 next thy sea-encircled coast.
Far from the sun and summer gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd,
To Him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face* the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled. This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year:
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