Eighteen Hundred and Thirteen
The bard inspired by Heaven, and he alone, Can shed a lasting lustre round the throne; The noble deeds, sung to the immortal lyre, The souls of future bards and heroes fire: The love of virtue, and the thirst of praise, Bids greener laurels spring, and fresher bays. The virtuous monarch, and the heaven-taught bard, Together rise, each other's best reward: Thus Virgil sung to one distinguished throne, And Roman bays encircled that alone. Thus Spenser, in his allegoric strain, Displayed the glories of the Maiden Reign: Thus he, who sings the song of triumph now, While Spenser's laurel decks his honoured brow, In every future age, and distant clime, By space unfettered, and untouched by time, Shall tell how firm unconquered Britain stood, What glories closed the reign of George the Good; How bounteous Heaven redundant plenty showered, Her golden horn how liberal Commerce poured; From Britain how the kindling ardour came, That touched the nations round, and burst in flame, And close the lofty strain, with vengeance shed By justice on the proud oppressor's head. . . . Haply for thee, a fair imperial flower, (To Britain given in some propitious hour;) Its glossy leaves unfolds, its fragrance sheds, To thy delighted eye its beauty spreads; Smiles on a happy nation great and free, Yet with superior sweetness smiles on thee. While shadowing to an allegoric age The royal virtues in his tuneful page, High-gifted Spenser through his fairy scene Display'd the image of a British queen, In the mild majesty of mellow'd light That reign of glory rises to the sight: The manly strength of that well-cultured mind, Which danger ne'er could daunt, nor falsehood blind; The deep research of that far-seeing eye, That wont the unacknowledged thought to spy; The "lion-port," and awe-commanding grace, That added dignity to highest place; Decision firm, that made her laws revered, Her friendship courted, and her anger fear'd; In Fame's high temple bids her image stand, The boast and guardian of her native land.
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