XXI.

  While from the far-divided shore
    Where liberty unconquer’d roves,
  Her ardent glance shall oft’ explore
    The parent isle her spirit loves;
  Shall spread upon the western main
  —­Harmonious concord’s golden chain,
While stern on Gallia’s ever hostile strand
From Albion’s cliff she pours her daring band.

XXII.

  Yet hide the sabre’s hideous glare
    Whose edge is bath’d in streams of blood,
  The lance that quivers high in air,
    And falling drinks a purple flood;
For Britain! fear shall seize thy foes,
  While freedom in thy senate glows,
While peace shall smile upon thy cultur’d plain,
With grace and beauty her attendant train.

XXIII.

  Enchanting visions sooth my sight—­
    The finer arts no more oppress’d,
  Benignant source of pure delight! 
    On her soft bosom love to rest. 
  While each discordant sound expires,
  Strike harmony! strike all thy wires;
The fine vibrations of the spirit move
And touch the springs of rapture and of love.

XXIV.

  Bright painting’s living forms shall rise;
    And wrapt in Ugolino’s woe[A],
  Shall Reynolds wake unbidden sighs;
    And Romney’s graceful pencil flow,
  That Nature’s look benign pourtrays[B],
  When to her infant Shakspeare’s gaze
The partial nymph “unveil’d her awful face,”
And bade his “colours clear” her features trace.

[A] “Ugolino’s woe”—­a celebrated picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, taken
    from Dante.
[B] “Nature’s look benign pourtrays”—­a subject Mr. Romney has taken
    from GRAY’S Progress of Poesy.

XXV.

  And poesy! thy deep-ton’d shell
    The heart shall sooth, the spirit fire,
  And all the passion sink, or swell,
    In true accordance to the lyre. 
  Oh! ever wake its heav’nly sound,
  Oh! call thy lovely visions round;
Strew the soft path of peace with fancy’s flowers,
With raptures bless the soul that feels thy powers.

XXVI.

  While Hayley wakes thy magic string,
    His shades shall no rude sound profane,
  But stillness on her folded wing,
    Enamour’d catch his soothing strain: 
  Tho’ genius breathe its purest flame
  —­Around his lyre’s enchanting frame;
Tho’ music there in every period roll,
More warm his friendship, and more pure his soul.

XXVII.

  While taste refines a polish’d age,
    While her own Hurd shall bid us trace
  The lustre of the finish’d page
    Where symmetry sheds perfect grace;
  With sober and collected ray
  To fancy, judgment shall display
The faultless model, where accomplish’d art
From nature draws a charm that leads the heart.