Methinks each region does his praise resound, 110 And nations tremble at his name around! His fame, through every distant kingdom rung, Proclaims him of the race from whence he sprung: So sable smoke in volumes curls on high; Heaps roll on heaps, and blacken all the sky: Already so, his fame, methinks, is hurl'd Around the admiring, venerating world. So the benighted wanderer, on his way, Laments the absence of all-cheering day; Far distant from his friends and native home, 120 And not one glimpse does glimmer through the gloom: In thought he breathes, each sigh his latest breath, Present, each meditation, pits of death: Irregular, wild chimeras fill his soul, And death, and dying, every step control. Till from the east there breaks a purple gleam, His fears then vanish as a fleeting dream: Hid in a cloud the sun first shoots his ray, Then breaks effulgent on the illumined day; We see no spot then in the flaming rays, 130 Confused and lost within the excessive blaze. ODE ON THE DUKE OF YORK'S SECOND DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND AS REAR-ADMIRAL. WRITTEN ABOARD THE ROYAL GEORGE. [Note: line-numbering counts lines of poetry only, blank lines are not counted. text Ed.] Again the royal streamers play, To glory Edward hastes away; Adieu, ye happy silvan bowers, Where pleasure's sprightly throng await! Ye domes, where regal grandeur towers In purple ornaments of state! Ye scenes where virtue's sacred strain Bids the tragic Muse complain! Where satire treads the comic stage, To scourge and mend a venal age; 10 Where music pours the soft, melodious lay, And melting symphonies congenial play: Ye silken sons of ease, who dwell In flowery vales of peace, farewell! In vain the goddess of the myrtle grove Her charms ineffable displays; In vain she calls to happier realms of love, Which Spring's unfading bloom arrays; In vain her living roses blow, And ever-vernal pleasures grow; 20 The gentle sports of youth no more Allure him to the peaceful shore; Arcadian ease no longer charms, For war and fame alone can please: His throbbing bosom beats to arms, To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas. CHORUS. The gentle sports of youth no more Allure him to the peaceful shore, For war and fame alone can please: To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas. 30