The foul, emancipated, unopprefs'd,
Free to prove all things and hold faft the beft,
Learns much, and to a thousand lift'ning minds,
Communicates with joy the good she finds.
Courage in arms, and ever prompt to fnow
His manly forehead to the fierceft 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 caft away,
The chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway;
But they that fight for freedom, undertake
The nobleft caufe 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 infpires.
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 cause 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 metal, 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,
Nor skulk or put on a prudential mask,
As if their duty were a defp'rate task;
Let active laws apply the needful curb
To guard the peace that riot would disturb,
And liberty, preserv'd from wild excefs,
Shall raise no feuds for armies to fupprefs.
When tumult lately burst his prison door,
And fet Plebeian thousands in a roar,
When he ufurp'd authority's just 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 fecond Troy,
Liberty blufh'd and hung her drooping head,
Beheld their progress with the deepest dread;
Blufh'd that effects like these fhe fhould produce,
Worfe than the deeds of galley-flaves broke loofe..
She lofes in fuch storms her very name,
And fierce licentiousness should bear the blame.
Incomparable gem! thy worth untold,
Cheap, though blood-bought, and thrown away when fold;
May no foes ravifh thee, and no false friend
Betray thee, while profeffing to defend ;
Prize it, ye minifters, ye monarchs, spare,
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 cloath'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 stood, as fome inimitable hand
Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand.
No fycophant or flave that dar'd oppose
Her facred caufe, but trembled when he rofe;
And every venal ftickler for the yoke,
Felt himself crush'd at the first 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 strength to strike the blow,
To manage with addrefs, to feize with pow'r,
The crifis of a dark decifive hour.
So Gideon earn'd a vict❜ry not his own,
Subferviency his praise, and that alone.
Poor England! thou art a devoted deer,
Befet with ev'ry ill but that of fear
The nation's hunt; all mark thee for a prey,
They fwarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay,
Undaunted ftill, though wearied and perplex'd,
Once Chatham fav'd thee, but who faves thee next?
Alas! the tide of pleasure sweeps along
All that should be the boast of British song.
'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 these, affronts the skies,
Is but the fire without the facrifice.`
The stream 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' inestimable 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.
He trod the very felf-fame ground you tread,.
And victory refuted all he said.
B. And yet his judgment was not fram❜d amifs, Its error, if it err'd, was merely this
He thought the dying hour already come,
And a complete recov'ry ftruck him dumb.
But that effeminacy, folly, luft,
Enervate and enfeeble, and needs muft,
And that a nation fhamefully debas'd,
Will be defpis'd and trampled on at last,
Unless sweet penitence her pow'rs renew,
Is truth, if hiftory itfelf be true.
There is a time, and justice marks the date,
For long-forbearing clemency to wait;
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