Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, While Thames among his willows from thy view Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene Around contemplate well. This is the place Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid Those thanks which God appointed the reward Of public virtue. And if chance thy home Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt They owe their ancestors; and make them swear To pay it, by transmitting down entire Those sacred rights to which themselves were born. VII. THE WOOD NYMPH. Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale Which I, the Dryad of this hoary oak, Pronounce to mortal ears. The second age Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, Obeys me. Many changes have I seen In human things, and many awful deeds Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove Against the tyrants of the land, against The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length Expert in laws divine, I know the paths Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait Each evening till a noble youth, who loves My shade, a while released from public cares, Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind I prompt, unseen; and place before his view Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme Of gods and men, with freedom's generous deeds, The lofty voice of glory and the faith Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told My function. If within thy bosom dwell Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear A sparing benediction from thy tongue. VIII.