Classic Poem

SCENE VI. La .

Here youths and maids your gather'd fragrance fling:
Behold your promis'd Chief — your patriot King. Tal .

Hail Britain's pride! immortal Arthur hail!
Thy honour, name, and praise shall never fail! Cho .
Hail Britain's pride! immortal Arthur hail!
Thy honour, name, and praise shall never fail! Lady .
Thus cover'd with glory, thus blest in thy love,
To empire promoted, thy virtue to prove,
Forget not that worth, in the sunshine of joy,
That griefs could not quench, or afflictions annoy.
Let your valour protect, but not ravage the state;
And cherish the Low, while you rule o'er the great;
So the bard, yet unborn, shall your triumphs proclaim,
And the nations around thus re-echo your Fame —
" Hail Britain's pride! immortal Arthur, hail!
" Your honour, name, and praise shall never fail. " Chorus .
Hail Britain's pride! &c. — Talies .

Wake the Harp to strains of pleasure!
Let the sportive train advance:
Ring of shields, and pyrrhic measure!
Warriors, lead the nuptial dance.

A Dance of Warriors.

War and Toil have done their duty:
Let your weary'd worth repose.
Love succeeds; and smiling Beauty,
With our laurel twines the rose. Chorus .

Love and Glory, thus uniting,
All their mingled boons confer.
Arthur, lo! thy worth requiting,
Empire, Fame, and Guenever. Lady .

Now, my task perform'd, I fly
To my secret bowers, that lie
Where the Day-Star never came,
Peering — — Fleering,
With his searching eye of flame.
There, in virgin state, I rove
Thro' sparry dome, and coral grove,
Self-illum'd with many a Gem
Might grace a monarch's diadem.
Lady! Lady! haste to rove
Thro' sparry dome and coral grove.
See your Swans their traces shake,
Regent of the silver lake! Lady .

There, where bubbling fonts arise
And the blue-eye'd Naides
Thro the chinks, in many a rill,
Tinkling — — Sprinkling,
Their salubrious boons distill —
There I join the virgin throng,
Warbling oft the choral song
That brooks and echoing falls repeat,
To Fancy's ear, in numbers sweet.
Lady! Lady! haste along:
Join the Choir, and join the song;
Gurgling — tinkling,
Murmuring — sprinkling,
Sadly sweet, the rocks among.
Sisters, I the call obey,
Seek the Grot, and join the lay;
Murmuring — tinkling,
Bubbling — sprinkling,
Where the chrystal fountains,
From their mountains,
Gushing — Rushing,
To their vallies haste away.

T ALIESSIN .

May those fountains, Lady kind!
Still their wonted channels find,
Nor ever water-nymph neglect
The silent tribute of respect,
But, thro many a secret vein,
Still the purer essence strain,
And thy mystic urn supply;
Never turbid, never dry: —
Urn so pure, that Lunvey's tide,
Thro its waters doom'd to glide,
Silent, with unmingling wave,
Hastes the wooddy glen to lave,
And there, to list'ning groves, complains
Of Love o'eraw'd, and stifled pains;
With virgin beauties aye embrac'd,
Which yet he must not hope to taste.
May ever on thy brink appear
The earliest fragrance of the year,
And lingering Autumn in thy face
Reflected see his latest grace;
While still, as circling hours prevail,
The matin Lark and Nightingale
The song of lengthen'd rapture wake
To hail the Lady of the Lake.

Chorus .

Blow the martial trump again,
Give to Fame the closing strain —
Fame, that shall her wreaths confer
On Arthur and on Guenever;
And bid her loudest clarion wake,
To hail the Lady of the Lake.