Of universal sway,1 which to reduce
Such seas of blood and treasure Britain cost;
The millions, by a generous people giv'n,
Or squander'd vile, or to corrupt, disgrace,
And awe the land with forces not their own, 2
Employ'd; the darling Church herself betray'd ;-
All these, broad-glaring, op'd the general eye,
And wak'd my spirit, the resisting soul.
"Mild was, at first, and half-asham'd, the check
Of senates, shook from the fantastic dream
Of absolute submission,-tenets vile,
Which slaves would blush to own, and which, reduc'd
To practice, always honest Nature shock!
Not ev'n the mask remov'd, and the fierce front
Of Tyranny disclos'd; nor trampled laws;
Nor seiz'd each badge of freedom3 through the land;
Nor Sidney bleeding for th' unpublish'd page;
Nor on the Bench avow'd Corruption plac'd,
And murderous Rage itself, in Jefferies' form;
Nor endless acts of Arbitrary Pow'r,
Cruel and false,―could raise the public arm.
Distrustful, scatter'd, of combining chiefs
Devoid, and dreading blind rapacious War,
The patient Public turns not, till impell'd
To the near verge of ruin. Hence I rous'd
The Bigot-king, and hurried fated on
His measure immature. But chief his zeal,
Out-flaming Rome herself, portentous scar'd
The troubled nation: Mary's horrid days
To Fancy bleeding rose, and the dire glare
Of Smithfield lighten'd in its eyes anew.
1 Universal sway:' under Louis XIV.
2 Forces not their own:' a
standing army, raised without the consent of parliament.-3 'Badge of freedom' the charters of corporations.-Bigot-king:' James II.
Yet silence reign'd. Each on another scowl'd
Rueful amazement, pressing down his rage;
As, mustering vengeance, the deep thunder frowns,
Awfully still, waiting the high command
To spring. Straight from his country, Europe sav'd,
To save Britannia, lo! my darling son,
Than hero more, the patriot of mankind,
Immortal Nassau, came. I hush'd the deep
By Demons rous'd, and bade the listed winds,1
Still shifting as behov'd, with various breath,
Waft the Deliverer to the longing shore.
See, wide alive, the foaming Channel bright
With swelling sails and all the pride of war;
Delightful view, when Justice draws the sword!
And mark, diffusing ardent soul around,
And sweet contempt of death, my streaming flag.
Ev'n adverse navies2 bless'd the binding gale,
Kept down the glad acclaim, and silent joy'd.
Arriv'd, the pomp, and not the waste, of arms,
His progress mark'd. The faint-opposing host
For once, in yielding, their best victory found,
And by desertion prov'd exalted faith;
While his the bloodless conquest of the heart,
Shouts without groan, and triumph without war.
"Then dawn'd the period destin'd to confine
The surge of wild Prerogative, to raise
A mound restraining its imperious rage,
And bid the raving deep no farther flow.
Nor were, without that fence, the swallow'd state
Better than Belgian plains without their dykes,
Sustaining weighty seas. This often sav'd
1 'Listed winds: 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.—2 Adverse navies: the English fleet.
By more than human hand, the Public saw,
And seiz'd the white-wing'd moment. Pleas'd to yield
Destructive pow'r,1 a wise heroic prince 2
Ev'n lent his aid.-Thrice happy, did they know
Their happiness, Britannia's bounded kings!
What though not theirs the boast, in dungeon-glooms
To plunge bold Freedom; or to cheerless wilds
To drive him from the cordial face of friend;
Or fierce to strike him at the midnight hour,
By mandate blind, not Justice, that delights
To dare the keenest eye of open day?
What though no glory to control the laws,
And make injurious Will their only rule,
They deem it? What though, tools of wanton Pow'r,
Pestiferous armies swarm not at their call?
What though they give not a relentless crew
Of civil furies-proud Oppression's fangs !-
To tear at pleasure the dejected land,
With starving Labour pamp'ring idle Waste?
To clothe the naked, feed the hungry, wipe
The guiltless tear from lone Affliction's eye;
To raise hid Merit, set th' alluring light
Of Virtue high to view; to nourish Arts,
Direct the thunder of an injur'd state,
Make a whole glorious people sing for joy,
Bless human-kind, and through the downward depth
Of future times to spread that better Sun
Which lights up British soul;-for deeds like these,
The dazzling fair career unbounded lies;
While (still superior bliss!) the dark abrupt
Is kindly barr'd, the precipice of Ill.
Oh, luxury divine! Oh, poor to this,
Destructive power:' by the Bill of Rights and the Act of Succession.Heroic prince: ' William III.
Ye giddy glories of despotic thrones !
By this, by this indeed, is imaged Heav'n,-
By boundless Good, without the pow'r of Ill.
"And now, behold! exalted as the cope
That swells immense o'er many-peopled earth,
And like it, free, my fabric stands complete,
The Palace of the Laws. To the four heav'ns
Four gates impartial thrown, unceasing crowds,
With kings themselves the hearty peasant mix'd,
Pour urgent in. And though to different ranks
Responsive place belongs, yet equal spreads
The shelt'ring roof o'er all; while plenty flows,
And glad Contentment echoes round the whole.
Ye floods, descend! Ye winds, confirming, blow!
Nor outward tempest, nor corrosive Time,
Naught but the felon undermining hand
Of dark Corruption, can its frame dissolve,
And lay the toil of ages in the dust."
The Author addresses the Goddess of Liberty, marking the happiness and grandeur of Great Britain, as arising from her influence. She resumes her discourse, and points out the chief Virtues which are necessary to maintain her establishment there. Recommends, as its last ornament and finishing, Sciences, Fine Arts, and Public Works. The encourage
ment of these urged from the example of France, though under a despotic
government. 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'd,—
"O blest Britannia! in thy presence blest,
Thou Guardian of Mankind! whence spring, alone,
All human 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
A flavour drink, that in one piercing taste
Bids each combine. Let Gallic vineyards burst
With floods of joy; with mild balsamic juice
The Tuscan olive. Let Arabia breathe
Her spicy gales, her vital gums distil;
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