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And, like a vaft Colofus, tow'ring stands
With one Foot planted on the Continent ;
Yet be not wholly wrap'd in Public Cares.
Tho“such High Cares should call, as call'd of-latey.
The Cause of Kings, and Emperors, adjourn ;
And Europe's little Balance drop awhile ;
For Greater, drop it; Ponder, and adjust,
The rival Interests, and contending Claims,
Of Life and Death; of Now, and of For-ever ::
Sublimeft Theme! and Needful, as Sublime.
Thus great ELIZA's Oracles renown's,
Thus WALSINGHAM, and RALEIGH (BRITAIN'sBoafts!),
Thus every Statesman, thought, that ever-Dy'd:
There's Inspiration in a fable Hour;
And Death's Approach makes Politicians Wise.
WHEN, Thunderstruck, that Eagle, Woolsey fell;
When Royal Favour, as an ebbing Sea,
Like a Leviathan, his Grandeur left,
His gafping Grandeur ! naked on the Strand;
Naked of Human, doubtful of Divine,
Affittance; no more wallowing in his Wealth;
Spouting proud Foams of Insolence no more ;
ON What, Then, fmote his Heart, un-Cardinal'd;
And funk beneath the Level of a Man?
On the Grand Article, the Sum of Things !
The Point of the First Magnitude! That Point
Tubes, mounted in a Court, but rarely reach,
Some painted Cloud still intercepts their Sight ;
First, right to judge; then chufe ; then perfeverij,
Stedfast, as if a Crown, or Mistress, callid ; -
These, these, are Politics will stand the Teft;
When finer Politics their Master fting ;
And-Statesmen fain would shrink to common Men.
These, These, are Politics will answer, now,
(When common Men would fain to Statesmen (well)
Beyond a Machiavel's, or Tencin's, Scheme.
All Safety rests on boneft Counsels; These
Immortalize the Statesman, bless the State,
Make the Prince triumph, and the People smile :
In Peace, rever'd; or terrible, in Arms,
Close leagu'd with an Invincible Ally;
Which boneft Counsels never fail to fix
In Favour of an Unabandon'd Land
A Land...that starts at such a Land as This.
A Parliament, so principled, will fink
All ancient Schools of Empire in Disgrace ;
And Britain's Glory, rising from the Dead,
Will fill the World, loud FAME's superior Song.
BRITAIN?—That Word pronounc'd, is an Alarm:
It warms the Blood, tho' frozen in our Veins ;
Awakes the Soul, and sends her to the field,
Enamour'd of the glorious Face of Death.
Britain? - There's noble Magic in the Sound,
O what illustrious Images arise ?
Embattled, round me, blaze the Pomps of War.
By Sea, by Land, at Home, in Foreign Climes,
What full-blown Laurels, on our Fathers Brows?
Ye radiant Trophies ! and Imperial Spoils !
Ye Scenes !--Astonishing to modern Sight 1
Let me, at least, enjoy you in a Dream ;
Why vanith? Stay, ye Godlike Strangers ! ftay.
Strangers! - I wrong my Countrymen. They wake
High beats the Pulse; the noble Pulse of War
Beats to that ancient Measure, that Grand March,
Which, then, prevail'd, when Britain higheft foar'd;
And every Battle pay'd for Heroes slain,
No more our great Forefathers ftain our Cheek's
With Blushes ; Their Renown, our Shame, no more.
In military Garb, and sudden Arms,
Up starts Old Britain ; Crofiers are laid by ;
Trade wields the Sword ; and Agriculture leaves
Her half-turn'd Furrow : Other Harvests fire
A noble Avarice; Avarice of Renown!
And Laurels are the Growth of every Field.
In distant Courts is our Commotion felt;
And, less like Gods, fit Monarchs on their Thrones.
What Arm can want, or Sinews, or Success,
Which, lifted from an honest Heart, descends,
With all the Weight of British Wrath, to cleave
The Papal Mitre, or the Gallic Chain,
At every Stroke; and save a finking Land ?
OR Death, or Victory, must be resolv'd ;
To dream of Mercy, O how Tame! how Mad!
Where, o'er black Deeds, the Crucifix difplay'd,
Fools think Heaven purchas'd by the Blood they shed;
By giving, not supporting, Pains and Death?
Nor fimple Death! Where They, the greatest Saints,
Who moft subdue all Tenderness of Heart;
Students in Torture ! Where, in Zeal to Him,
Whose darling Title is The Prince of Peace,
The Best turn ruthless Butchers, for our Sakes ;
To save us in a World, they Recommend,
And yet Forbear; Themselves with Earth content ;
What Modesty ? --Such Virtues Rome adorn!
And chiefly Those, who Rome's first Honours wear,
Whose Name, from Jefus; and whose Arts, from Hell.
And shall a Pope-bred Princeling crawl afhore,
Replete with venom, Guiltless of a Sting,
And whistle Cut-throats, with those Swords, that scrap'd
Their barren Rocks, for wretched Sustenance,
To cut his Passage to the Britik Throne?
One, that has fuck'd in Malice with his Milk,
Malice to Britain, Liberty and Truth?
Less lavage was his Brother-Robber's Nurse,
The howling Nurse of plundering Romulus
Ere yet, far worse than Pagan harbour'd there.
HAIL to the Brave. Be Britain, BRITAIN ftill. Britain! High-favour'd of indulgent Heaven!
Nature's. Anointed Empress of the Deep!
The Nurse of Merchants, who can purchase Crowns !
Supreme in Commerce! that exuberant Source
Of Wealth, the Nerve of War; of Wealth, the Blood,
The circling Current in a Nation's Veins,
To set high Bloom on the fair Face of Peace !
This, once, fo celebrated Seat of Power,
From which efcap d, the mighty Cæfar triumph'd!
Of Gallic Lilies, this eternal Blast!
This Terror of Armadas! This true Bolt
Ethereal-temper'd, to repress the vain,
Salmonean Thunders from the Papal Chair!
This small Ide, wide-realm'd Monarchs eye with Awe!
Which says, to their Ambition's foaming Waves,
66 Thus far, nor farther"-Let her hold in Life
Nought dear, disjoin'd from Freedom, and Renown,
Renown, our Ancestors great Legacy,
To be transmitted to their latest Sons.
By Thoughts inglorious, and Un-British Deeds,
Their cancellid Will is, impiously, prophand;
Inhumanly, difturb'd their sacred Duft.
THEIR sacred Duft with recent Laurels crown,
By your own Valour won. This sacred Ine,
Cut from the Continent, that World of Slaves ; :
This Temple, built by Heaven's peculiar Care,
In a Recess from the contagious World,
With Ocean pour'd around it for its Guard,
And dedicated, long, to Liberty,
That Health, that Strength, that Bloom, of Civil Life!
This Temple of ftill more Divine ; of Faith
Sifted from Errors ; purify'd by Flames,
Like Gold, to take anew Truth's Heavenly Stamp;
And, (rising both in Luftre, and in Weight)
With her bless’d Master's unmaim'd Image, shine ;
Why should fhe longer droop? Why longer act
As an Accomplice with the Plots of Rome?
Why longer lend an Edge to Bourbon's Sword;
And give him Leave, among his daftard Troops,
To muster that ftrong Succour, Albion's Crimes :
Send his felf-impotent Ambition Aid,
And crown the Conquests of her fiercest Foes ?
Where are her Foes most fatal : Blushing Truth!
“ In her Friends vices”-with a Sigh replies.
Empire, on Virtue's Rock, unthaken, stands ;
Flux, as the Billows, when in Vice diffolv'd.
If Heav'n reclaims us by the Scourge of War,
What Thanks are due to Paris, and Madrid?
Would they a Revolution! --Aid their Aim;
But be the Revolution in our Hearts !
WOULDST Thou (whose Hand is at the Helm) the
The thaken Bark of Britain, should out-ride
The present Blast? and ev'ry future Storm ?
Give it That Ballast, which alone has Weight
With HIM, whom Wind, and Waves, and War, obey.
Perfift: Are Others fubtil? Thou be wise :
Above the Florentine's, Court-Science raise ;
Stand forth a Patriot of the Moral World ;
The Pattern, and the Patron, of the Juft.
· Thus, strengthen Britain's military Strength;
Give its oqun Terror to the Sword fhe draws.
Ak you “ What mean I?"..The most obvious Truth;
Armies, and Fleets alone ne'er won the Day.
When our proud Arms are once difarm’d; disarm'd
Of Aid from HIM, by whom the Mighty fall;
Of Aid from HIM, by whom the Feeble fand;
Who takes away the keenest Edge of Battle,
Or gives the Sword Commission to destroy ;
Who blafts, or bids the martial Laurel bloom ;
Emasculated, then, most manly Might;
Or, tho' the Might remains, it nought avails :
Then, wither'd Weakness foils the sinewy Arm
Of Man's meridian, and high-hearted, Power: Our