Ver. 1119. The prince of Orange, in his passage to England, though his fleet had been at first dispersed by a storm, was afterwards extremely favoured by several changes of wind.
Ver. 1122. Rapin, in his History of England.— The third of November the fleet entered the Channel, and lay between Calais and Dover, to stay for the ships that were behind. Here the prince called a council of war.-It is not easy to imagine what a glorious show the fleet made. Five or six hundred ships in so narrow a channel, and both the English and French shores covered with numberless spectators, are no common sight. For my part, who was then on board the fleet, I own it struck me extremely.
With floods of joy; with mild balsamic juice
The Tuscan olive. Let Arabia breathe
Her spicy gales, her vital gums distil.
Turbid with gold let southern rivers flow;
And orient floods draw soft, o'er pearls, their maze.
Let Afric vaunt her treasures; let Peru
Deep in her bowels her own ruin breed,
The yellow traitor that her bliss betray'd,
Unequall'd bliss!-and to unequall'd rage!
Yet nor the gorgeous East, nor golden South,
Nor, in full prime, that new-discover'd world,
Where flames the falling day, in wealth and praise,
Shall with Britannia vie, while, goddess, she 30
Derives her praise from thee, her matchless charms,
Her hearty fruits the hand of freedom own,
And, warm with culture, her thick-clustering fields
Eternal verdure crowns
Prolific teem.
Ver. 1126. The prince placed himself in the main body, carrying a flag with English colours, and their highnesses' arms surrounded with this motto, The Protestant Religion and the Liberties of England; and underneath the motto of the Her meads; her gardens sinile eternal spring. house of Nassau, Je Maintiendrai, I will main-She gives the hunter-horse, unquell'd by toil, tain. Rapin.
Ver. 1127. The English fleet.
Ver. 1130. The king's army.
Ardent, to rush into the rapid chase:
She, whitening o'er her downs, diffusive, pours
Unnumber'd flocks: she weaves the fleecy robe,
Ver. 1143. By the bill of rights, and the act of That wraps the nations: she, to lusty droves, 49
BEING THE FIFTH PART OF
LIBERTY,
A POEM.
THE author addresses the goddess of Liberty, marking the happiness and grandeur of Great Britain, as arising from her influence; to ver. 89. She resumes her discourse, and points out the chief virtues which are necessary to maintain her establishment there; to ver. 374. Recommends,. as its last ornament and finishing, sciences, fine arts, and public works. The encouragement of these urged from the example of France, though under a despotic government; to ver. 549. The whole concludes with a prospect of future times, given by the goddess of Liberty: this described by the author, as it passes in vision before him.
HERE interposing, as the goddess paus'!--
"Oh, blest Britannia! in thy presence blest,
Thou guardian of mankind! whence spring, alone,
All hunan grandeur, happiness, and fame:
For toil, by thee protected, feels no pain;
The poor man's lot with milk and honey flows;
And, gilded with thy rays, ev'n death looks gay.
Let other lands the potent blessings boast
Of more exalting suns. Let Asia's woods,
Untended, yield the vegetable fleece:
And let the little insect-artist form,
On higher life intent, its silken tomb.
Let wondering rocks, in radiant birth, disclose,
The various-tinctur'd children of the Sun.
From the prone beam let more delicious fruits
The richest pasture spreads; and, her's, deep-wave
Autumnal seas of pleasing plenty round.
These her delights: and by no baneful herb,
No darting tiger, no grim lion's glare,
No fierce-descending wolf, no serpent roll'd
In spires immense progressive o'er the land,
Disturb'd. Enlivening these, add cities, full
Of wealth, of trade, of cheerful toiling crowds;
Add thriving towns; add villages and farms,
Innumerous sow'd along the lively vale,
Where bold unrivall'd peasants happy dwell:
Add ancient seats, with venerable oaks
Embosom'd high, while kindred floods below
Wind through the mead; and those of modern
hand,
More pompous, add, that splendid shine afar.
Need I her limpid lakes, her rivers name,
Where swarm the fiuny race? Thee, chief, O
Thames!
On whose each tide, glad with returning sails,
Flows in the mingled harvest of mankind?
And thee, thou Severn, whose prodigious swell,
Why need I naine her deep capacious ports,
And waves, resounding, imitate the main ?
That point around the world? and why her seas?
All ocean is her own, and every land
To whom her ruling thunder ocean bears.
She too the mineral feeds. th' obedient lead,
The warlike iron, nor the peaceful less,
Forming of life art-civiliz'd the bond;
And what the Tyrian merchant sought of old,
Not dreaming then of Britain's brighter fame. 70
She rears to freedom an undaunted race:
Compatriot zealous, hospitable, kind,
Her's the warm Cambrian: her's the lofty Scot,
To hardship tam'd, active in arts and arins,
Fir'd with a restless, an impatient flame,
That leads him raptur'd where ambition calls:
And Engash merit her's; where meet, combin'd,.
Whate'er high fancy, sound judicious thought,
An ample generous heart, undrooping soul,
And firin tenacious valour can bestow.
Great nurse of fruits, of flocks, of commerce, she,!
Great nurse of men! By thee, O goddess, taught,
Her old renown I trace, disclose her source
Of wealth, of grandeur, and to Britons sing
A strain the Muses never tonch'd before.
"But how shall this thy mighty kingdom stand? On what unyielding base? how finish'd shine?"
At this her eye, collecting all its fire,
Beam'd more than human; and her awful voice,
Majestic, thus she rais'd-" To Britons bear
This closing strain, and with intenser note
Loud let it sound in their awaken'd ear.
"On virtue can alone my kingdom stand.
On public virtue, every virtue join'd.
For, lost this social cement of mankind,
The greatest empires, by scarce felt degrees,
Will moulder soft away; till, tottering loose,
They prone at last to total ruin rush.
Unblest by virtue, government a league-
Becomes, a circling junto of the great,
To rob by law; religion mild a yoke
To tame the stooping soul, a trick of state
To mask their rapine, and to share the prey.
What are without it senates, save a face
Of consultation deep and reason free,
While the determin'd voice and heart are sold?
What boasted freedom, save a sounding name?
And what election, but a market vile
And drain'd by wants to nature all unknown,
A wandering, tasteless, gaily-wretched train,
Though rich, are beggars, and thongh noble, slaves.
"Lo! damn'd to wealth, at what a gross expense,
They purchase disappointment, pain, and shame.
Instead of hearty hospitable cheer.
See how the hall with brutal riot flows;
While in the foaming flood, fermenting, steep'd,
The country maddens into party-rage.
Mark! those disgraceful piles of wood and stone;
Those parks and gardens, where, his haunts be-
trimm'd,
And Nature by presumptuous art oppress'd,
The woodland genius mourns. See! the full board
That streams disgust, and bowls that give no joy:
No truth invited there, to feed the mind;
100 Nor wit, the wine rejoicing reason quaffs.
Hark! how the dome with insolence resounds, 179
With those retain'd by vanity to scare
Repose and friends. To tyrant fashion mark
The costly worship paid, to the broad gaze
Of fools. From still delusive day to day,
Led an eternal round of lying hope,
See self-abandon'd, how they roam adrift,
Dash'd o'er the town, a miserable wreck !
Then to adorn some warbling eunuch turn'd,
With Midas' ears they crowd; or to the buz
Of masquerade unblushing; or, to show
Their scorn of Nature, at the tragic scene
They mirthful sit, or prove the comic true.
But, chief, behold! around the rattling board,
The civil robbers rang'd; and ev'n the fair,
The tender fair, each sweetness laid aside,
As fierce for plunder as all-licens'd troops
In some sack'd city. Thus dissolv'd their wealth,
Without one generous luxury dissolv'd,
Or quarter'd on it many a needless want,
At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each smooth as those that mutually deceive,
And for their falsehood each despising each;
Till shook their patron by the wintery winds,
Wide flies the wither'd shower, and leaves him bare.
O, far superior Afric's sable sons,
By merchant pilfer'd, to these willing slaves!
And, rich, as unsqueez'd favourite, to them,
Is he who can his virtue boast alone!
Of slaves self-barter'd? Virtue! without thee,
There is no ruling eye, no nerve, in states;
War has no vigour, and no safety peace:
Ev'n justice warps to party, laws oppress,
Wide through the land their weak protection fails,
First broke the balance, and then scorn'd the sword.
Thus nations sink, society dissolves;
Rapine and guile and violence break loose,
Everting life, and turning love to gall;
Man hates the face of man, and Indian woods
And Libya's hissing sands to him are tame.
"By those three virtues be the frame sustain'd
Of British Freedom: independent life;
Integrity in office; and, o'er all
Supreme, a passion for the common-weal.
Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next best
To that of life and an immortal soul!
The life of life! that to the banquet high
And sober meal gives taste; to the bow'd roof
Fair-dream'd repose, and to the cottage charms.
Of public freedom, hail, thou secret source!
Whose streams, from every quarter confluent, form
My better Nile, that nurses human life.
By rills from thee deduc'd, irriguous, fed,
The private field looks gay, with Nature's wealth
Abundant flows, and blooms with each delight
That Nature craves. Its happy master there,
The only freeman, walks his pleasing round:
Sweet-featur'd Peace attending; fearless Truth;
Firm Resolution; Goodness, blessing all
That can rejoice; Contentment, surest friend;
And, still fresh stores from Nature's book deriv'd,
Philosophy, companion ever new.
These cheer his rural, and sustain or fire,
When into action call'd, his busy hours.
Meantime true judging moderate desires,
Economy and taste, combin'd, direct
His clear affairs, and from debauching fiends
Secure his little kingdom. Nor can those
Whom fortune heaps, without these virtues, reach
That truce with pain, that animated ease,
That self enjoyment springing from within;
That Independence, active, or retir'd,
Which make the soundest bliss of man below:
But, lost bencath the rubbish of their means,
"Britons! be firm!-nor let corruption sly 200
Twine round your heart indissoluble chains!
The steel of Brutus burst the grosser bonds
By Cæsar cast o'er Roine; but still remain'd
The soft enchanting fetters of the mind,
And other Caesars rose. Determin'd, hold
Your independence! for, that once destroy'd,
Unfounded, freedom is a morning dream,
That flits aërial from the spreading eye.
"Forbid it Heaven! that ever I need urge
Integrity in office on my sons!
Inculcate common honour-not to rob-
And whom?-The gracious, the confiding hand,
That lavishly rewards; the toiling poor,
Whose cup with many a bitter drop is mixt;
The guardian public; every face they see,
And every friend; nay, in effect. themselves.
As in familiar life, the villain's fate
Admits no cure; so, when a desperate age
At this arrives, I the devoted race
Indignant spurn, and hopeless soar away.
"But, ah, too little known to modern times!
Be not the noblest passion past unsung;
That ray peculiar from unboun led love
Effus'd, which kindles the heroic soul:
Devotion to the public. Glorious flame!
Celestial ardour! in what unknown worlds,
Profusely scatter'd through the blue immense,
Hast thou been blessing myriads, since in Rome,
Old virtuous Rome, so many deathless names
From thee their lustre drew ? since, taught by thee,
Their poverty put splendour to the blush, 231
Pain grew luxurious, and ev'n death delight?
O, wilt thou ne'er, in thy long period, look,
With blaze direct, on this my last retreat?
Who these indeed can undetesting see!-
But who unpitying? To the generous eye
Distress is virtue! and, though self-betray'd,
A people struggling with their fate must rouse
The hero's throb. Nor can a land, at once,
Be lost to virtue quite. How glorious then!
Fit luxury for gods! to save the good,
Protect the feeble, dash bold vice aside,
Depress the wicked, and restore the frail.
Posterity, besides, the young are pure,
And sons may tinge their father's cheek with shame
"Should then the times arrive (which Heaven
avert !)
That Britons bend unnerv'd, not by the force
Of arms, more generous, and more manly, quell'd,
But by corruption's soul-dejecting arts,
Arts impudent! and gross! by their own gold,
In part bestow'd, to bribe them to give all.
With party raging, or immers'd in sloth,
Should they Britannia's well-fought laurels yield
To slily-conquering Gaul; ev'n from her brow
Let her own naval oak be basely torn,
By such as tremble at the stiffening gale,
And nerveless sink while others sing rejoic'd.
Or (darker prospect! scarce one gleam behind
Disclosing) should the broad corruptive plague
Breathe from the city to the farthest hut,
250 That sits serene within the forest shade;
The fever'd people fire, inflame their wants, 320
And their luxurious thirst, so gathering rage,
That, were a buyer found, they stand prepar'd
To sell their birthright for a cooling draught.
Should shameless pens for plain corruption plead;
The hir'd assassins of the commonweal!
Deem'd the declaiming rant of Greece and Rome,
Should public virtue grow the public scoff,
Till private, failing, staggers through the land:
Till round the city loose mechanic want,
Dire-prowling nightly, makes the cheerful haunts
Of men more hideous than Numidian wilds,
Nor from its fury sleeps the vale in peace;
And murders, horrours, perjuries abound:
Nay, till to lowest deeds the highest stoop;
The rich, like starving wretches, thirst for gold;
And those, on whom the vernal showers of Heaven
All-bounteous fall, and that prime lot bestow,
A power to live to Nature and themselves,
270 In sick attendance wear their anxious days,
""Tis not enough, from self right understood
Reflected, that thy rays inflame the heart:
Though Virtue not disdains appeals to self,
Dreads not the trial: all her joys are true,
Nor is there any real joy save her's.
Far less the tepid, the declaiming race,
Foes to corruption, to its wages friends,
Or those whom private passions, for a while,
Beneath my standard list, can they suffice
To raise and fix the glory of my reign?
"An active flood of universal love
Must swell the breast. First, in effusion wide,
The restless spirit roves creation round,
And seizes every being: stronger then
It tends to life, whate'er the kindred search
Of bliss allies: then, more collected still,
It urges human-kind: a passion grown,
At last, the central parent-public calls
Its utmost effort forth, awakes each sense,
The comely, grand, and tender. Without this,
This awful pant, shook from sublimer powers
Than those of self, this heaven-infus'd delight,
This moral gravitation, rushing prone
To press the public good, my system soon,
Traverse, to several selfish centres drawn,
Will reel to ruin: while for ever shut
Stand the bright portals of desponding Fame.
"From sordid self shoot up no shining deeds,
None of those ancient lights, that gladden Earth,
Give grace to being, and arouse the brave
To just ambition, virtue's quickening fire!
Life tedious grows, an idly-bustling round,
Fill'd up with actions animal and mean,
A dull gazette! Th' impatient reader scorns
The poor historic page; till kindly comes
Oblivion, and redeems a people's shame.
Not so the times, when emulation-stung,
Greece shone in genius, science, and in arts,
And Rome in virtues dreadful to be told!
To live was glory then! and charm'd mankind
Through the deep periods of devolving time,
Those, raptur'd, copy; these, astonish'd, read.
"True, a corrupted state, with every vice
And every meanness foul, this passion damps.
Who can, unshock'd, behold the cruel eye?
The pale inveigling smile? the ruffian front?
The wretch abandon'd to relentless self,
Equally vile if miser or profuse?
Powers not of God, assiduous to corrupt?
The fell deputed tyrant, who devours
The poor and weak, at distance from redress?
Delirious faction bellowing loud my name?
The false fair-seeming patriot's hollow boast?
A race resolv'd on bondage, fierce for chains,
My sacred rights a merchandize alone
Esteeming, and to work their feeder's will
By deeds, a horrour to mankind, prepar'd,
As were the dregs of Romulus of old ?
With fortune, joyless, and with honours, mean.
Meantime, perhaps, profusion flows around, 341
The waste of war, without the works of peace;
No mark of millions, in the gulph absorpt
Of uncreating vice, none but the rage
Of rous'd corruption still demanding more.
That very portion, which (by faithful skill
Employ'd) might make the smiling public rear
Her ornamented head, drill'd through the hands
Of mercenary tools, serves but to nurse
A locust band within, and in the bud
Leaves starv'd each work of dignity and use.
"I paint the worst. But should these times
If any nobler passion yet remain,
Let all my sons all parties fling aside.
Despise their nonsense, and together join;
Let worth and virtue scorning low despair,
Exerted full, from every quiver shine,
Commix'd in heighten'd blaze. Light flash'd to light,
Moral, or intellectual, more intense
By giving glows. As on pure Winter's eve, 360
Gradual, the stars effulge; fainter, at first,
They, straggling, rise; but when the radiant host,
In thick profusion pour'd, shine out immense,
Fach casting vivid influence on each,
From pole to pole a glittering deluge plays,
And worlds above rejoice, and men below. ›
"But why to Britons this superfluous strain?----
Good nature, honest truth ev`n somewhat blunt,
Of crooked baseness an indignant scorn,
A zeal unyielding in their country's cause,
And ready bounty, wont to dwell with them-
Nor only wont-Wide o'er the land diflus'd,
In many a blest retirement still they dwell.
"To softer prospect turn we now the view, To laurell'd science, arts, and public works, That lend my finish'd fabric comely pride, Grandeur, and grace. Of sullen genius he! Curs'd by the Muses! by the Graces loth'd! Who deems beneath the public's high regard These last enlivening touches of my reign. However puff'd with power, and gorg'd with wealth, A nation be; let trade enormous rise, Let East and South their mingled treasure pour, Till, swell'd impetuous, the corrupting flood Burst o'er the city, and devour the land: Yet these neglected, these recording arts, Wealth rots, a nuisance; and, oblivious sunk, That nation must another Carthage lie. If not by them, on monumental brass,
To Britons not unknown, to Britons full
The goddess spreads her stores, the secret soul
That quickens trade, the breath unseen that wafts
To them the treasures of a balanc'd world.
But finer arts (save what the Muse has sung
In daring flight, above all modern wing)
Neglected droop the head; and public works,
Broke by corruption into private gain,
Not ornament, disgrace; not serve, destroy. 440
"Shall Britons, by their own joint wisdom rul'd
Beneath one royal head, whose vital power
Connects, enlivens, and exerts the whole;
In finer arts, and public works, shall they
To Gallia yield? yield to a land that bends,
Deprest, and broke, beneath the will of one?
Of one who, should th' unkingly thirst of gold,
Of tyrant passions, or ambition, prompt,
Calls locust armies o'er the blasted land:
Drains from its thirsty bounds the springs of wealth,
His own insatiate reservoir to fill:
To the lone desert patriot merit frowns,
Or into dungeons arts, when they, their chains,
Indignant, bursting, for their nobler works
All other licence scorn but Truth's and mine.
Oh, shame to think! shall Britons, in the field
Unconquer'd still, the better laurel lose?
Ev'n in that monarch's reign, who vaily dreamt,
By giddy power, betray'd, and flatter'd pride,
On sculptur'd marble, on the deathless page, 390 To grasp unbounded sway; while, swarming round, Imprest, renown had left no trace behind:
In vain, to future times, the sage had thought,
The legislator plann'd, the hero found
A beauteous death, the patriot toil'd in vain.
'Th' awarders they of Fame's immortal wreath,
They rouse ambition, they the mind exalt,
Give great ideas, lovely forms infuse,
Delight the general eye, and, drest by them,
The moral Venus glows with double charms.
"Science, my close associate, still attends Where'er I go. Sometimes in simple guise, She walks the furrow with the consul swain, Whispering unletter'd wisdom to the heart, Direct; or, sometimes, in the pompous robe Of fancy drest, she charms Athenian wits, And a whole sapient city round her burns. Then o'er her brow Minerva's terrours nod; With Xenophon, sometimes, in dire extremes, She breathes deliberate soul, and makes retreat L'equall'd glory; with the Theban sage, Fpaminondas, first and best of men! Sometimes she bids the decp-embattled host, Above the vulgar reach, resistless form'd, March to sure conquest-never gain'd before! Nor on the treacherous seas of giddy state Unskilful she: when the triumphant tide Of high-swoln empire wears one boundless smile, And the gale tempts to new pursuits of fame, Sometimes, with Scipio, she collects her sail, And seeks the blissful shore of rural ease, Where, but th' Aonian maids, no syrens sing; Or should the decp-brew'd tempest muttering rise, While rocks and shoals perfidious lurk around, With Tully she her wide reviving light To senates holds, a Catiline confounds, And saves awhile from Cæsar sinking Rome. Such the kind power, whose piercing eye dissolves Each mental fetter, and sets reason frce; For me inspiring an enlighten'd zeal, The more tenacious as the more convinc'd How happy freemen, and how wretched slaves.
His armies dar'd all Europe to the field; To hostile hands while treasure flow'd profuse, And, that great source of treasure, subject's blood, Inhuman squander'd, sicken'd every land; From Britain, chief, while my superior sons, In vengeance rushing, dash'd his idle hopes, And bade his agonizing heart be low: Ev'n then, as in the golden calm of peace! What public works at home, what arts arose ! What various science shone! what genius glow'd' ""Tis not for me to paint, diffusive shot O'er fair extents of land, the shining road; The flood-compelling arch; the long canal, Through mountains piercing, and uniting seas; The dome resounding sweet with infant joy, From famine sav'd, or cruel-handed shame, And that where valour counts his noble scars; The land where social pleasure loves to dwell, Of the fierce demon, Gothic duel, freed; | The robber from his farthest forest chas'd; The turbid city clear'd, and, by degrees, Into sure peace the best police refin'd, Magnificence, and grace, and decent joy. Let Gallic bards record, how honour'd arts, And science, by despotic bounty bless'd, At distance flourish'd from my parent-eye, Restoring antient taste, how Boileau rose, How the big Roman soul shook, in Corneille, The trembling stage. In elegant Racine, 489 How the more powerful, though more humble voice Of nature-painting Greece, resistless, breath'd The whole awaken'd heart. How Moliere's scene Chastis'd and regular, with well judg'd wit, Not scatter'd wild, and native humour, grac'd, Was life itself. To public honours rais'd, How learning in warm seminaries spread; And, more for glory than the small reward, How emulation strove. How their pure tongue Almost obtain'd what was deny'd their arms. 499 From Rome, awhile, how Painting, courted long, With Poussin came; ancient design, that lifts
A fairer front, and looks another soul.
How the kind art, that, of unvalued price,
The fam'd and only picture, easy, gives,
Refin'd her touch, and, through the shadow'd piece,
All the live spirit of the painter pour'd.
Coyest of arts, how Sculpture northward deign'd
A look, and bade her Girardon arise.
How lavish grandeur blaz'd; the barren waste,
Astonish'd, saw the sudden palace swell,
And fountains spout amid its arid shades.
For leagues, bright vistas opening to the view,
How forests in majestic gardens smil'd.
How menial arts, by their gay sisters taught,
Wove the deep flower, the blooming foliage train'd
In joyous figures o'er the silky lawn,
The palace cheer'd, illum'd the story'd wall,
And with the pencil vy'd the glowing loom.
"These laurels, Louis, by the droppings rais'd Of thy profusion, its dishonour'd shade, [brow; And, green through future times, shall bind thy While the vain honours of perfidious war 522 Wither abhorr'd, or in oblivion lost. With what prevailing vigour had they shot, And stole a deeper root, by the full tide Of war-sunk millions fed? Superior still, How had they branch'd luxuriant to the skies, In Britain planted, by the potent juice Of freedom swell'd? Forc'd is the bloom of arts, A false uncertain spring, when bounty gives, Weak without me, a transitory gleam. Fair shine the slippery days, enticing skies Of favour smile, and courtly breezes blow; Till arts, betray'd, trust to the flattering air Their tender blossom: then malignant rise The blights of envy, of those insect-clouds, That, blasting merit, often cover courts: Nay, should, perchance, some kind Mæcenas aid The doubtful bearings of his prince's soul, His wavering ardour fix, and unconfin'd Diffuse his warm beneficence around; Yet death, at last, and wintery tyrants come, Each sprig of genius killing at the root. But when with me imperial bounty joins, Wide o'er the public blows eternal Spring: While mingled Autumn every harvest pours Of every land; whate'er invention, art, Creating toil and Nature can produce."
Here ceas'd the goddess; and her ardent wings, Dipt in the colours of the heavenly bow, Stood waving radiance round, for sudden flight Prepar'd, when thus, impatient, burst my prayer. "Oh, forming light of life! O, better Sun! Sun of mankind! by whom the cloudy north, Sublim'd, not envies Languedocian skies, That, unstain'd ether all, diffusive smile: When shall we call these ancient laurels ours ? And when thy work complete ?" Straight with her Celestial red, she touch'd my darken'd eyes. [hand, As at the touch of day the shades dissolve, So quick, methought, the misty circle clear'd, That dims the dawn of being here below: The future shone disclos'd, and, in long view, Bright rising eras instant rush'd to light. "They come! Great goddess! I the times beThe times our fathers, in the bloody field, Have earn'd so dear, and, not with less renown, In the warm struggles of the senate fight. The times I see! whose glory to supply,
For toiling ages, commerce round the world 570 Has wing'd unnumber'd sails, and from each land VOL. XII.
Materials heap'd, that, well-employ'd, with Rom
Might vie our grandeur, and with Greece our art.
"Lo! princes I behold! contriving still,
And still conducting firm some brave design;
Kings! that the narrow joyless circle scorn,
Burst the blockade of false designing men,
Of treacherous smiles, of adulation fell,
And of the blinding clouds around them thrown:
Their court rejoicing millions; worth alone, 590
And virtue dear to them; their best delight,
In just proportion, to give general joy:
Their jealous care thy kingdom to maintain;
The public glory theirs; unsparing love
Their endless treasure; and their deeds their praise.
With thee they work. Nought can resist your force:
Life feels it quickening in her dark retreats;
Strong spread the blooms of genius, science, art;
His bashful bounds disclosing merit breaks;
And, big with fruits of glory, virtue blows
Expansive o'er the land. Another race
Of generous youth, of patriot-sires, i see!
Not those vain insects fluttering in the blaze
Of court, and ball and play; those venal souls,
Corruption's veteran unrelenting bands,
That, to their vices slaves, can ne'er be free.
"I see the fountain's purg'd? whence life derives
A clear or turbid flow; see the young mind
Not fed impure by chance, by flattery fool'd.
Or by scholastic jargon bloated proud,
But fill'd and nourish'd by the light of truth.
Then, beam'd through fancy the refining ray,
And pouring on the heart, the passions feel
At once informing light and moving flame;
Till moral, public, graceful action crowns
The whole. Behold! the fair contention glows,
In all that mind or body can adorn,
And form to life. Instead of barren heads,
Barbarian pedants, wrangling sons of pride,
And truth perplexing metaphysic wits,
Men, patriots, chiefs, and citizens are form'd.
"Lo! Justice, like the liberal light of Heaven,
Unpurchas'd shines on all, and from her beam,
Appalling guilt, retire the savage crew,
That prowl amid the darkness they themselves
Have thrown around the laws. Oppression grieves:
See how her legal furies bite the lip,
While Yorks and Talbots their deep snares detect,
And seize swift justice through the clouds they raise.
"See! social Labour lifts his guarded head, 620
And men not yield to government in vain.
From the sure land is rooted ruffian force,
And, the lewd nurse of villains, idle waste;
Lo! raz'd their haunts, down dash'd their madden-
ing bowl,
A nation's poison! beauteous order reigns!
Manly submission, unimposing toil,
Trade without guile, civility that marks
From the foul berd of brutal slaves thy sons,
And fearless peace. Or should affronting war
To slow but dreadful vengeance rouse the just,
Unfailing fields of freemen I behold!
That know, with their own proper arm, to guard
Their own blest isle against a leaguing world.
Despairing Gaul her boiling youth restrains,
Dissolv'd her dream of universal sway:
The winds and seas are Britain's wide domain:
And not a sail, but by permission, spreads.
"Lo! swarming southward on rejoicing sons, Gay colonies extend; the calm retreat Of undeserv'd distress, the better home
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