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Danger and death a dread delight inspire;
Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile;
Hail, noblest structures imaged in the wave!
Long have ye heard the narratives of age,
Time's sombrous touches soon correct the piece,
Hast thou thro’ Eden's wild-wood vales pursued Each mountain-scene, majestically rude; To note the sweet simplicity of life, Far from the din of Folly's idle strife; Nor there awhile, with lifted eye, revered That modest stone which pious PEMBROKE reared; Which still records, beyond the pencil's power, The silent sorrows of a parting hour; Still to the musing pilgrim points the place, Her sainted spirit most delights to trace?
Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride,
As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower
And as the sparks of social love expand,
But these pure joys the world can never know;
, In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise, And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies !
Once, and domestic annals tell the time, (Preserved in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime) When Nature smiled, and o'er the landscape threw Her richest fragrance, and her brightest hue,