III. 3.

Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares:
Hence dread religion dwells with focial joy;
And holy paffions and unfullied cares,
In youth, in age, domestic life employ.
O fair Britannia, hail!-With partial love
The tribes of men their native feats approve,
Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame:
But when for generous minds and manly laws
A nation holds her prime applause,

There public zeal fhall all reproof disclaim.

TH

HRICE hath the spring beheld thy faded fame Since I exulting grafp'd the tuneful shell: Eager through endless years to found thy name, Proud that my memory with thine fhould dwell. How haft thou ftain'd the splendor of my choice! Thofe godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? What can I now of thee to time report,

Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? II. There

[* See the "Epistle to Curio," in this volume.]

II.

There are with eyes unmov'd and reckless heart
Who faw thee from thy fummit fall thus low,
Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart
The public vengeance on thy private foe.
But, fpite of every glofs of envious minds,
The owl-ey'd race whom virtue's luftre blinds,
Who fagely prove that each man hath his price,
I still believ'd thy aim from blemish free,

I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee

And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice.
III.

"Thou didst not dream of liberty decay'd,
"Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong:
"But the rash many, first by thee misled,
"Bore thee at length unwillingly along.”
Rife from your fad abodes, ye curst of old
For faith deferted or for cities fold,

Own here one untry'd, unexampled, deed;;
One mystery of shame from Curio learn,

To beg the infamy he did not earn,

And scape in guilt's difguife from virtue's offer'd meed.
IV..

For faw we not that dangerous power avow'd
Whom freedom oft hath found her mortal bane,
Whom public wisdom ever ftrove to exclude,
And but with blushes fuffereth in her train?
Corruption vaunted her bewitching fpoils,
O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils,
And call'd herself the ftates directing soul :

Till Curio, like a good magician, try'd

With eloquence and reafon at his fide,

By ftrength of holier fpells the inchantress to contro V.

Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends: The rescued merchant oft thy words refounds : Thee and thy caufe the rural hearth defends: His bowl to thee the grateful failor crowns: The learn'd reclufe, with awful zeal who read Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, Now with like awe doth living merit scan : While he, whom virtue in his bleft retreat Bade focial eafe and public paffions meet, Afcends the civil fcene, and knows to be a man. VI.

At length in view the glorious end appear'd:
We faw thy fpirit through the fenate reign;
And freedom's friends thy inftant omen heard
Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain.
Wak'd in the ftrife the public Genius rofe
More keen, more ardent from his long repose:
Deep through her bounds the city felt his call:
Each crouded haunt was ftirr'd beneath his power,
And murmuring challeng`d the deciding hour
Of that too vaft event, the hope and dread of all.
VII.

O ye good powers who look on human kind,
Inftruct the mighty moments as they rowl;
And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind,
And fteer his paffions steady to the goal.

O Alfre

O Alfred, father of the English name,
O valiant Edward, first in civil fame,
O William, height of public virtue pure,
Bend from your radiant feats a joyful eye
Behold the fum of all your labors nigh,

Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure.
VIII.

'Twas then-O fhame! O foul from faith estrang'd! O Albion oft to flattering vows a prey!

'Twas then-Thy thought what fudden frenzy chang'd?

What rushing pally took thy ftrength away? Is this the man in freedom's cause approv'd? The man fo great, fo honour'd, fo belov'd? Whom the dead envy'd, and the living bless'd This patient flave by tinsel bonds allur'd? This wretched fuitor for a boon abjur'd? Whom those that fear'd him, fcorn; that trusted him, deteft?

IX.

O loft alike to action and repofel

With all that habit of familiar fame,

Sold to the mockery of relentless foes,

And doom'd to exhauft the dregs of life in fhame,
To act with burning brow and throbbing heart

A poor deferter's dull exploded part,

To flight the favor thou canst hope no more, Renounce the giddy croud, the vulgar wind, Charge thy own lightnefs on thy country's mind, And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign fhore. X. But

P 4

X.

But England's fons, to purchase thence applaufe,
Shall ne'er the loyalty of flaves pretend,

By courtly paffions try the public caufe;
Nor to the forms of rule betray the end.
O race erect! by manlieft paffions mov'd,
The labors which to virtue ftand approv'd,
Prompt with a lover's fondnefs to furvey;
Yet, where injustice works her wilful claim,
Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame,
Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay.

XI.

Thefe thy heart owns no longer. In their room
See the grave queen of pageants, Honor, dwell
Couch'd in thy bofom's deep tempestuous gloom
Like fome grim idol in a forcerer's cell.
Before her rites thy fickening reason flew,
Divine perfuafion from thy tongue withdrew,
While laughter mock'd, or pity stole a figh:
Can wit her tender movements rightly frame
Where the prime function of the foul is làme?
Can fancy's feeble fprings the force of truth supply?
XII.

But come: 'tis time: ftrong deftiny impends
To fhut thee from the joys thou haft betray'd:
With princes fill'd, the folemn fane ascends,
By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd.
There vengeful vows for guardian laws effac'd,
From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid wafte,

For