Yet let them only share the praises due-
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;
For every want that stimulates the breast,
Becomes a fource of pleasure, when redrest.
Whence from fuch lands each pleasing science flies
That first excites defire, and then fupplies;
Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,
To fill the languid paufe with finer joy;

Unknown those pow'rs that raise the foul to flame,
Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate thro' the frame:
Their level life is but a mould'ring fire,
Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong defire,
Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer
On fome high festival of once a-year,

In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,
'Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow-
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;
For, as refinement stops, from fire to fon,
Unalter'd, unimprov'd, the manners run,
And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart
Fall blunted from each indurated heart:
Some fterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May fit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest;
But all the gentler morals, fuch as play

Thro' life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the way,
Thefe, far difpers'd, on timorous pinions fly,

To fport and flutter in a kinder sky.

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, I turn-and France displays her bright domain: Gay, fprightly land of mirth and social ease, Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please,

How often have I led thy sportive choir,

With tuneless pipe, befide the murmuring Loire! Where shading elms along the margin grew,

And freshen'd from the wave the zephyr flew;
And haply, tho' my harsh touch, fault'ring still,
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill,
Yet would the village praise my wond'rous pow'r,
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour:
Alike all ages-Dames of ancient days

Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
And the gay grandfire, skill'd in gestic lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threescore.

So bleft a life thefe thoughtless realms display-
Thus idly bufy rolls their world away;
Their's are those arts that mind to mind endear,
For honour forms the focial temper here-
Honour, that praise which real merit gains,
Or even imaginary worth obtains,
Here passes current-paid from hand to hand,
It shifts in splendid traffic round the land;
From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
And all are taught an avarice of praise;
They please, are pleas'd—they give to get esteem,
'Till, feeming bleft, they grow to what they seem.
But while this fofter art their blifs fupplies,
It gives their follies also room to rife;
For praise too dearly lov'd or warmly fought,
Enfeebles all internal ftrength of thought;
And the weak foul, within itself unblest,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast:
Hence oftentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;

Here vanity affumes her pert grimace,

And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boast one splendid banquet once a-year—
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the folid worth of self-applause.
To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies;
Methinks her patient fons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride:
Onward, methinks, and diligently flow,
The firm connected bulwark feems to grow;
Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and ufurps the fhore:
While the pent ocean, rifing o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him fmile-
The flow canal, the yellow-bloffom'd vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding fail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain—
A new creation rescued from his reign.
Thus, while around the wave-fubjected foil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bofom reign,
And induftry begets a love of gain.

Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all thofe ills fuperfluous treasure brings,

Are here display'd. Their much lov'd wealth imparts

Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts;

But view them closer, craft and fraud appear,
Ev'n liberty itself is barter'd here:

At gold's fuperior charms all freedom flies-
The needy fell it, and the rich man buys;
A land of tyrants, and a den of flaves,
Here wretches feek dishonourable graves,
And calmly bent, to fervitude conform,
Dull as their lakes that flumber in the storm.
Heavens! how unlike their Belgic fires of old!
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow;
How much unlike the fons of Britain now!

Fir'd at the found, my genius spreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspis glide.
There all around the gentleft breezes stray,
There gentle mufic melts on every spray ;
Creation's mildeft charms are there combin'd,
Extremes are only in the mafter's mind:
Stern o'er each bofom reason holds her state,
With daring aims irregularly great;
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I fee the lords of human kind pass by,
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,

By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand;
Fierce in their native hardiness of foul,

True to imagin'd right, above controul—
While even the peasant boasts these rights to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, Freedom, thine the bleffings pictur'd here, Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear: Too blest, indeed, were fuch without alloy, But, fofter'd even by freedom, ills annoy→

That independence Britons prize too high,
Keeps man from man, and breaks the focial tie;
The felf-dependent lordlings ftand alone,
All claims that bind and fweeten life unknown:
Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held,
Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd;
Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar,
Repreft ambition struggles round her shore-
Till, over-wrought, the general fyftem feels
Its motions ftop, or phrenzy fire the wheels.
Nor this the worst: As nature's ties decay,
As duty, love, and honour fail to fway,
Fictitious bonds-the bonds of wealth and law-
Still gather ftrength, and force unwilling awe.
Hence all obedience bows to these alone,
And talent finks, and merit weeps unknown;
Till time may come, when, ftript of all her charms,
The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms,

Where noble stems tranfmit the patriot claim,
Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame,
One fink of level avarice fhall lie,

And scholars, foldiers, kings, unhonour'd die!

Yet think not, thus when freedom's ills I ftate,

I mean to flatter kings, or court the great;
Ye pow'rs of truth, that bid my foul afpire,
Far from my bofom drive the low defire!
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's rage and tyrant's angry steel;
Thou tranfitory flow'r, alike undone

By proud contempt, or favour's foftering fun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,
I only would repress them-to secure;