VERSES
ADDRESSED TO
DOCTOR THORNTON,
             ON THE COMPLETION OF HIS
        TEMPLE OF FLORA.
  OH! Bards of Athens! for your classic rage,
  Or Rubens' fire, to warm the kindling page;
  Then like those vivid tints my Song should glow,
  And THORNTON's praise in noblest numbers flow;
  Fervent as HIS should roll the breathing line,
  The radiant colouring, and the rich design.
    From orient regions where the tropic ray
  Lights beauty's beams, and pours the glowing day,
  'To where th' eternal snows of winter spread,
  And ice-clad mountains rear their lofty head,
  THY daring hand hath cull'd the loveliest flow'rs
  To deck delighted Albion's happier bow'rs;
  On each proud page in varied radiance bright,
  The MUSE exulting feasts her raptur'd sight;
  For ever fresh those flowers; for ever fair!
  The rage of Envy and of Time shall dare.
  Around THY couch their branching tendrils wave,
  And cast their fragrant shadows o'er THY grave.
    Beneath the Pleiads, taught by THEE to bloom,
  While fancy fondly drinks their rich perfume,
  A second PARADISE our senses greets,
  And Asia wafts us all her world of sweets.
    To THORNTON loudly strike th' applausive string,
  'Mid desert wastes who bids an EDEN spring,
  On canvas bids the glowing landscape rise,
  Each plant fair blooming 'mid its native skies;
  Whether dark clouds the angry heav'ns deform,
  Where round the Cape loud howls th' incessant storm;