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The Groves , whose curled brows shade every Lake ,
Do every where such waving Landskips make,
As Painters baffl'd Art is far above,
Who waves, and leaves could never yet make move.
Hither the warbling People of the Air
From their remoter Colonies repair,
And in these shades, now setting up their rests,
Like Caesars Swiss , burn their old native nests.
The Muses too pearch on the bending spraies
And in these thickets chant their charming Lates ;
No wonder then if the Heroick Song
That here took birth, and voice do flourish long.

To view from hence the glittering Pile above
(Which must at once wonder create, and love)
Environ'd round with Natures shames, and Ills,
Black Heaths, wild Rocks, bleak Craggs, and naked Hills,
And the whole Prospect so informe, and rude;
Who is it, but must presently conclude?
That this is Paradice , which seated stands
In midst of Desarts , and of barren Sands .
So a bright Diamond would look, if set
In a vile socket of ignoble jet ,
And such a face the new-born Nature took,
When out of Chaos by the Fiat strook.
Doubtless, if any where, there never yet
So brave a Structure on such ground was set,
Which sure the Foundress built, to reconcile
This to the other members of the Isle ,
And would therein, first her own Grandeur show,
And then what Art could, spite of Nature , do.

But let me lead you in, 'tis worth the pains
T'examine what this Princely House contains,
Which, if without so glorious to be seen,
Honour and Vertue make it shine within.
The fore-nam'd outward Gate then leads into
A spacious Court , whence open to the view
The noble Front of the whole Ædifice ,
In a surprising height, is seen to rise.
Even with the Gate-house , upon either hand
A neat square Turret in the corners stand,
On each side Plats of ever-springing green,
With an ascending Pavier-walk between.
In the green Plat which on the right hand lies.
A Fountain of strange structure, high doth rise,
Upon whose slender top, there is a vast,
I'd almost said, prodigious Bason plac't;
And, without doubt, the Model of this Piece
Came from some other place, than Rome , or Greece ,
For such a Sea suspended in the Air,
I never saw in any place, but there.
Which should it break, or fall, I doubt we shou'd
Begin to reckon from the second Flood .
Though this divert the eye; yet all the while
Your feet still move towards th'attractive Pile ,
Till fair round Stairs , some fifteen grieses high,
Land you upon a Terrass , that doth lie
Of goodly breadth along the Buildings square ,
Well pav'd, and fenc't with Rail , and Baluster .
From hence in some three steps the inner-Gate
Rises in greater Beauty, Art, and State,
Than the proud Palace of the Sun , and all
Vain Poets stuff vainer Romance withall,
A vice that much the Gallick muse infects,
And of good Writers , make vile Arcitects .
This to the Lodg admits, and two steps more
Set you upon a level axler floor,
Which paves the inner Court , a curious place
Form'd by the am'rous structure's kind embrace.
I'th' Center of this shady Court doth rise
Another Fountain , of a quaint device
Which large-limb Heroes , with Majestick port
In their habilliments of War support.
Hence, cross the Court , through a fine Portico
Into the Body of the House you go,
Where a proud Hall does not at all abate
Any thing promis'd by the outward State,
And where the Reader we entreat will please
By the large Foot , to measure Hercules ;
For sure a vain, and endless work it were
T'insist upon ev'ry particular.
And should I be so mad to go about
To give account of ev'ry thing throughout,
The Rooms of State, Stair-cases, Galleries ,
Lodgings, Apartments, Closets, Offices;
Or to describe the splendors undertake
Which ev'ry glorious Room , a Heaven make,
The Picture, Sculpture, Carving, Graving, Guilding ,
T'would be as long in Writing as in Building.
Yet Chatsworth , though thy pristine lineaments
Were beautiful, and great to all intents:
I needs must say, for I have seen both Faces ,
Thou'rt much more lovely in the modern graces,
Thy now great Mistriss has adorn'd thee in,
Than when thought fine enough to hold a Queen .
Thy Foundress drest thee in such Robes , as they
In those old fashion'd Times, reputed gay,
Of which new stript, and the old rusling pride
Of Ruff , and Farthingale now laid aside,
Thy shapes appear, and thou thy self art seen
A very Christian , and a modish Queen:
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