The King of Rivers, solemn calm and slow, Flows tow'rd the Sea yet fierce is seen to flow, On each fan Bank, the verdant Lands are seen, In gayest Cloathing of perpetual Green On ev'ry Side, the Prospect brings to Sight The Fields, the Flow'rs, and ev'ry fresh Delight His lovely Banks, most beauteously are grac'd With Nature's sweet variety of Taste Herbs, Fruits and Grass, with intermingled Trees The Prospect lengthen, and the Joys increase The lofty Mountains rise to ev'ry View, Creation's Glory, and its Beauty too. To higher Grounds, the raptur'd View extends, Whilst in the Cloud-top'd Cliffs the Landscape ends Fair Scenes! 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.