To Which Should Angels Turn Their Sight,
Angels Might Stand Astonished With Delight
Majestic Grove In Ev'ry View Arise
And
Greet with Wonder the Beholders' Eyes.
In gentle Windings where this River glides,
And Herbage thick its Current almost hides,
Where sweet Meanders lead his pleasant Course,
Where Trees and Plants and Fruits themselves disclose,
Where never-fading Groves of fragrant Fir
And beauteous Pine perfume the ambient Air,
The air, at once, both Health and Fragrance yields,
Like sweet Arabian or Elysian Fields
Thou Royal Settlement! he washes Thee,
Thou Village, blest of Heav'n and dear to me:
Nam'd from a pious Sov'reign, now at Rest,
The last of Stuart's Line, of Queens the best.
Amidst the rural Joys, the Town is seen,
Enclos'd with Woods and Hills, forever green
The Streets, the Buildings, Gardens, all concert
To please the Eye, to gratify the Heart.
But none of these so pleasing or so fair,
As those bright Maidens, who inhabit there.
Your potent Charms fair Nymphs, my verse inspire,
Your Charms supply the chaste poetic Fire.
Could these my Strains, but live, when I'm no more,
On future Fame's bright wings, your names should soar.
Where this romantic Village lifts her Head,
Betwixt the Royal Port and humble Mead,
The decent Mansions, deck'd with mod'rate cost,
Of honest Thrift, and gen'rous Owners boast;
Their Skill and Industry their Sons employ,
In works of Peace, Integrity and Joy.
Their Lives, in Social, harmless Bliss, they spend,
Then to the Grave, in honor'd Age descend.
The hoary Sire and aged Matron see
Their prosp'rous Offering to the fourth Degree:
With Grief sincere, the blooming offspring close
Their Parent's Eyes, and pay their Debt of Woes;
Then haste to honest, joyous Marriage Bands,
A newborn Race is rear'd by careful Hands:
Thro' num'rous Ages thus they'll happy move
In active Bus'ness, and in chastest Love.
The Nymphs and Swains appear in Streets and Bowers
As morning fresh, as lovely as the Flowers.
As blight as Phoebus, Ruler of the Day,
Prudent as Pallas, and as Flora gay.
A Spire majestic roars its solemn Vane,
Where Praises, Pray'r and true Devotion reign,
Where Truth and Peace and Charity abound,
Where God is fought, and heav'nly Blessings found.
The gen'rous Flock reward their Pastor's care,
His Pray'rs, his Wants, his Happiness they share
Retir'd from worldly Care, from Noise and Strife,
In sacred Thoughts and Deeds, he spends his Life,
To mo'drate Bounds, his Wishes he confines,
All views of Grandeur, Pow'r and Wealth resigns,
With Pomp and Pride can cheerfully dispense,
Dead to the World, and empty Joys of Sense,
The Symphony of heav'nly Song he hears,
Celestial Concord vibrates on his Ears.,
Which emulates the Music of the Spheres
The Band of active Youths and Virgins fan,
Rank'd in due Order, by their Teacher's Care,
The Sight of all Beholders gratify,
Sweet to the Soul, and pleasing to the Eye
But when their Voices found in Songs, of Praise,
When they to
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