"Thus Britain sunk, and thus sunk Wodehouse tower;
" So sinks the sun, as o'er the turbid skies
"Sudden the storm-engendering clouds arise,
" And vex with uproar wild Night's fearful hour;
"That past, his bright beams resalute the day,
" And heighten'd splendors crown his orient ray:
"So Britain rose, so rose my princely state.
" But not the swelling column massy proof,
"The moulded pediment, the fretted roof,
" Not this fair fabric proudly elevate,
"Tho' fix'd by Prowse's just palladian hand
" Its towred honours stand;
"Not this clear lake, whose waving crystal spreads
" Round yon hoar isle with awful shades imbrown'd:
"Not these pure streams that vein the envermeil'd meads:
" Nor those age-honoured oaks wide waving round;
"Exterior glories these, of humbler fame,
" Beam not that splendent ray which dignifies my name.