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No fhades of fuperftition blot the day,
Liberty chases all that gloom away;
The foul, emancipated, unoppress'd,

Free to prove all things and hold faft the best,
Learns much; and, to a thousand lift'ning minds,
Communicates with joy the good she finds :
Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show
His manly forehead to the fiercest foe;
Glorious in war, but for the fake of peace,
His fpirits rifing as his toils increase,

Guards well what arts and industry have won,
And freedom claims him for her firft-born fon.
Slaves fight for what were better cast away-
The chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway;
But they, that fight for freedom, undertake
The nobleft cause mankind can have at ftake:-
Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call
A bleffing-freedom is the pledge of all.
Oh liberty! the pris'ner's pleafing dream,
The poet's mufe, his paffion and his theme;
Genius is thine, and thou art fancy's nurse;
Loft without thee th' ennobling pow'rs of verfe;
Heroic fong from thy free touch acquires
Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires;

Place me where winter breathes his keeneft air, And I will fing, if liberty be there;

And I will fing, at liberty's dear feet,

In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fierceft heat.

A. Sing where you please, in fuch a caufe, I grant, An English poet's privilege to rant;

But is not freedom-at least, is not our's

Too apt to play the wanton with her pow'rs,
Grow freakish, and, o'erleaping ev'ry mound,
Spread anarchy and terror all around?

B. Agreed. But would you fell or flay your horfe
For bounding and curvetting in his course;
Or if, when ridden with a careless rein,
He break away, and seek the distant plain?
No. His high mettle, under good controul,
Gives him Olympic speed, and fhoots him to the goal.
Let difcipline employ her wholesome arts;
Let magiftrates alert perform their parts,
Not skulk or put on a prudential mask,
As if their duty were a desp'rate task;
Let active laws apply the needful curb
To guard the peace that riot would disturb;
And liberty, preferv'd from wild excess,
Shall raise no feuds for armies to suppress.

When tumult lately burft his prison door,
And fet plebeian thousands in a roar;
When he ufurp'd authority's juft place,

And dar'd to look his master in the face;
When the rude rabble's watch-word was-deftroy,
And blazing London feem'd a second Troy;
Liberty blush'd, and hung her drooping head,
Beheld their progress with the deepest dread;
Blush'd, that effects like these the fhould produce,
Worfe than the deeds of galley-flaves broke loose.
She lofes in fuch ftorms her very name,

And fierce licentiousness fhould bear the blame.
Incomparable gem! thy worth untold;

Cheap, though blood-bought; and thrown away when fold;

May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend
Betray thee, while profeffing to defend ;
Prize it, ye minifters; ye monarchs, fpare;
Ye patriots, guard it with a mifer's care.

A. Patriots, alas! the few that have been found, Where most they flourish, upon English ground, The country's need have scantily supplied,

And the laft left the scene when Chatham died.

B. Not fo-the virtue ftill adorns our age,
Though the chief actor died upon the stage.
In him Demofthenes was heard again;
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain;
She cloth'd him with authority and awe,
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law.
His fpeech, his form, his action, full of grace,
And all his country beaming in his face,
He ftood, as fome inimitable hand

Would strive to make a Paul or Tully ftand.
No fycophant or flave, that dar'd oppose
Her facred cause, but trembled when he rose;
And ev'ry venal ftickler for the yoke

Felt himself crushed at the firft word he spoke.
Such men are rais'd to station and command,
When Providence means mercy to a land.
He speaks, and they appear; to him they owe
Skill to direct, and ftrength to ftrike the blow;
To manage with address, to seize with pow'r,
The crifis of a dark decifive hour.

So Gideon earn'd a vict'ry not his own;
Subferviency his praife, and that alone.
Poor England! thou art a devoted deer,
Beset with ev'ry ill but that of fear.

The nations hunt; all mark thee for a prey;


They fwarm around thee, and thou ftand'ft at bay.
Undaunted ftill, though wearied and perplex'd,
Once Chatham fav'd thee; but who faves thee next?
Alas! the tide of pleasure fweeps along

All that should be the boast of British fong.
'Tis not the wreath that once adorn'd thy brow,
The prize of happier times, will ferve thee now.
Our ancestry; a gallant christian race,
Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace,

Confefs'd a God; they kneel'd before they fought,
And prais'd him in the victories he wrought.
Now from the dust of ancient days bring forth
Their fober zeal, integrity, and worth;
Courage, ungrac'd by thefe, affronts the skies,
Is but the fire without the facrifice.

The ftream that feeds the well-fpring of the heart
Not more invigorates life's nobleft part,

Than virtue quickens, with a warmth divine,
The pow'rs that fin has brought to a decline.
A. Th' ineftimable estimate of Brown
Rofe like a paper-kite, and charm'd the town;
But measures, plann'd and executed well,
Shifted the wind that rais'd it, and it fell.

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