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The most happy fhould be the most virtuous. Of Eternity. What Britain's arts fhould be. Whence Lavery.

I.

BRITAIN! thus bleft, thy bleffing know
Or bliss, in vain! the Gods beftow;
Its end fulfil, means cherish, source adore:
Vain fwellings of thy foul reprefs;

They moft may lose, who most possess;
Then let blifs awe, and tremble at thy store.

II.

Nor be too fond of life at beft,

Her chearful, not enamour'd gueft:

Let thought fly forward; 'twill gay prospects give; Profpects immortal! that deride

A Tyrian wealth, a Persian pride, And make it perfe&t fortitude to live.

III.

O for Eternity! a scene

To fair adventurers ferene!

O! on that fea to deal in pure renown!
Traffick with Gods! What transports roll!
What boundless import to the foul!

The

poor man's empire! and the fubjects crown!

IV. Adore

IV.

Adore the Gods, and plough the feas :
Thefe be thy arts, O Britain! these.
Let others pant for an immerse command;
Let others breathe war's fiery God;
The proudest victor fears thy nod,
Long as the trident fills thy glorious hand.

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Which Trade's foft fpurious daughter blasts; For what is Tyranny? A monftrous birth

From Luxury, by bribes caress'd,

By glowing Power in bades comprefs'd; Which talks around, and chains the groaning earth.

THE CLOSE.

This fubject now firft fung. How fung. Preferable to Pindar's fubjects. How Britain fhould be fung by All.

1.

THEE, Trade! I firft, who boast no store,

Who owe thee nought, thus snatch from fhore, The fhore of Profe, where thou haft flumber'd long; And fend thy flag triumphant down

The tide of Time, to fure renown;

blefs my country! and thou pay'ft my fong,

II. Thos

II.

Thou art the Britons' nobleft theme,

Why, then, unfung? My fimple aim
To drefs plain fenfe, and fire the generous blood;
Not sport imaginations vain,

But lift, with yon ethereal train,
The fhining Mufe, to ferve the public good.

III.

Of ancient art and ancient praise, The fprings are open'd in my lays: Olympic heroes ghofts around me throng,

.

And think their glory fung anew;

Till chiefs of equal fame they view;

Nor grudge to Britons bold their Theban fong.

IV.

Not Pindar's theme with mine compares,
As far furpast, as useful cares
Tranfcend diverfion light and glory vain:
The wreath fantastic, fhouting throng,
And panting fteed, to him belong.
The charioteer's, not empire's golden rein.

V.

Nor, Chandos! thou the Mufe defpife
That would to glowing Ætna rife

(Such Pindar's breast), thou Theron of our time!
Seldom to man the Gods impart

A Pindar's head, or Theron's heart;

In life, or fong, how rare the true Sublime!

VI. Now,

VI.

None, British-born, will fure difdain

This new, bold, moral, patriot strain, Though not with genius, with fome virtue crown'd; (How vain the Mufe!) the lay may last,

Thus twin'd around the British Mast, The British Maft, with nobler laurels bound!

VII.

Weak ivy curls round naval oak,

And fmiles at wind and ftorm unbroke;
By ftrength not hers fublime: thus, proud to foar,
To Britain's grandeur cleaves my strain ;
And lives, and echoes through the plain,
While o'er the billow Britain's thunders roar.
VIII.

Be dumb, ye groveling Sons of Verse,
Who fing not actions, but rebearse,
And fool the Mufe with impotent defire;
Ye facrilegious! who presume
To tarnish Britain's naval bloom,
Sing Britain's fame, with all her Hero's fire.

THE CHORUS.

*

"YE Syrens, fing; ye Tritons, blow;
"Ye Nereids, dance; ye Billows, flow;
Roll to my measures, O ye Starry Throng!
"Ye Winds! in concert breathe around;
"Ye Navies! to the concert bound

"From Pole to Pole; to Britain all belong; Britain to Heaven; from Heaven defcends my fong.

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