A Sylvan Ode

Come ye gay illustrious train, Rivals of the Cypraean queen, This is now the golden reign, Where each social face is seen; For sallow Care Ne'er enters here; To the sordid miser's cell He's sure to hie, With low'ring eye, But dares not in this circle dwell.

Sons of Bacchus and Apollo, Follow, follow, follow, follow, Sylvans, Sylphs, and Faries come, From hillock green, or cavern hollow; Come and join the chearful throng, In merry dance, or merry song; Sylvans, Sylphs, and Fairies come, Come, come along.

With pearly veil, Behold fair Cynthia mantles ev'ry tree, The thriftiest maiden of the vaulted sky. The Zephyrs rise, and at their bidding, see The tow'ring branches with their plumage high Nod to the gale. With what majestic homage they incline To make this jocund scene, a scene divine.

To every cadence let echo return Her soft swelling notes from her rockriven cave, Let every bosom with rhapsody burn, And the heart in a fountain of extacy lave; Let every mountain, let every dell, Return a soft echo to sweet Philomel.

Once more your tuneful voices raise, Where'ere ye lay, where'ere ye rove, On dreary heath, or woody maze, Or in the lover-haunted grove. Now tune the shell, or strike the lyre, Enforc'd by rich poetic fire. And as you sing, or as you play, Be this the burthen of your lay.

Let Peace for ever, ever smile, Around this heaven-favour'd Isle; From East and West this sentence sing, " Protect her Beauties, and her King."