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REVEREND THOMAS WARTON.
IV.
To this imperial seat to lend
Its pride supreme, and nobly blend
British magnificence with Attic art.
Proud Castle, to thy banner'd bowers,
Lo! Picture bids her glowing powers
Their bold historic groups impart:
She bids the illuminated pane,
Along thy lofty-vaulted fane,
Shed the dim blaze of radiance richly clear.
Still may such arts of Peace engage
Their Patron's care! But should the rage
Of war to battle rouse the new-born year,
Britain, arise, and wake the slumbering fire;
Vindictive dart thy quick-rekindling ire!
Or, armed to strike, in mercy spare the foe,
And lift thy thundering hand, and then withhold the blow!
