Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crowned the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry’s holy shade;
And ye that from the stately brow
Of Windsor’s heights the expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His...
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Methinks we do as fretful children do,
Leaning their faces on the window-pane
To sigh the glass dim with their own breath’s stain,
And shut the sky and landscape from their view;
And, thus, alas! since God the maker drew
A mystic separation ’twixt those twain,—
The life beyond us and our souls in pain,—
We miss the prospect which... -
The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime
Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time,
Producing subjects worthy fame.In happy climes, where from the genial sun
And virgin earth such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone,
And fancied beauties by the true:In happy climes,...
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Come my Susan, quit your chamber,
Greet the op'ning bloom of May,
Let us on you hillock clamber,
And around the scene survey.
See the sun is now...Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
...
Death! thou real friend of innocence,
Tho' dreadful unto shivering sense,
I feel my nature tottering o'er
Thy gloomy waves, which loudly roar:
Immense the scene, yet dark the view,
Nor Reason darts her vision thro'.
Virtue! supreme of earthly good,
Oh let thy rays illume the road...