From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source, _40 Yet sung so often in poetic lays, With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; So high the deathless Muse exalts her theme! Such was the Boyne, a poor inglorious stream, That in Hibernian vales obscurely stray'd, And unobserved in wild meanders play'd; Till by your lines and Nassau's sword renowned, Its rising billows through the world resound, Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce, Or where the fame of an immortal verse. _50 Oh could the Muse my ravished breast inspire With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire, Unnumbered beauties in my verse should shine, And Virgil's Italy should yield to mine! See how the golden groves around me smile, That shun the coast of Britain's stormy isle, Or when transplanted and preserved with care, Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air. Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents: _60 Even the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume. Bear me, some god, to Baia's gentle seats, Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats; Where western gales eternally reside, And all the seasons lavish all their pride: Blossoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise, And the whole year in gay confusion lies. Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my soul a thousand passions strive, _70 When Rome's exalted beauties I descry Magnificent in piles of ruin lie. An amphitheatre's amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its public shows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb; Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies; And here the proud triumphal arches rise, Where the old Romans' deathless acts displayed, Their base, degenerate progeny upbraid: _80 Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, And wondering at their height through airy channels flow. Still to new scenes my wandering Muse retires, And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires; Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, And softened into flesh the rugged stone. In solemn silence, a majestic band, Heroes, and gods, and Roman consuls stand; Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And emperors in Parian marble frown; _90 While the bright dames, to whom they humble sued, Still show the charms that their proud hearts subdued. Fain would I Raphæl's godlike art rehearse, And show the immortal labours in my verse, Where from the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with life his blended colours glow. From theme to theme with secret pleasure toss'd, Amidst the soft variety I'm lost: _100 Here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound With circling notes and labyrinths of sound; Here domes and temples rise in distant views,