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And Massachuset, happy in those arts,
That join the politics of trade and war,
Bearing the palm in either; they appear
Better exemplars; and that hardy crew,
Who, on the frozen beach of Newfoundland,
Hang their white fish amid the parching winds:
The kindly fleece, in webs of Duffield woof,
Their limbs benumbed enfolds with cheerly warmth,
And frieze of Cambria, worn by those who seek, 501
Through gulfs and dales of Hudson's winding bay,
The beaver's fur, though oft they seek in vain,
While winter's frosty rigour checks approach,
Even in the fiftieth latitude. Say why
(If ye, the travelled sons of commerce, know)
Wherefore lie bound their rivers, lakes, and dales,
Half the sun's annual course, in chains of ice?
While the Rhine's fertile shore, and Gallic realms,
By the same zone encircled, long enjoy
Warm beams of Phoebus, and, supine, behold
The plains and hillocks blush with clustering vines.

Must it be ever thus? or may the hand
Of mighty labour drain their gusty lakes,
Enlarge the brightening sky, and, peopling, warm
The opening valleys, and the yellowing plains ?
Or rather shall we burst strong Darien's chain,
Steer our bold fleets between the cloven rocks,
And through the great Pacific every joy
Of civil life diffuse? Are not her isles
Numerous and large? Have they not harbours calm,
Inhabitants, and manners? haply, too,
Peculiar sciences, and other forms
Of trade, and useful products, to exchange
For woolly vestures? "Tis a tedious course
By the Antarctic circle: nor beyond


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Those sea-wrapt gardens of the dulcet reed,
Bahama and the Caribbee, may be found
Safe mole or harbour, till on Falkland's isle
The standard of Britannia shall arise.
Proud Buenos Ayres, low-couched Paraguay,
And rough Corrientes, mark with hostile eye
The labouring vessel: neither may we trust
The dreary naked Patagonian land,
Which darkens in the wind. No traffic there,
No barter for the fleece. There angry storms
Bend their black brows, and, raging, hurl around
Their thunders. Ye adventurous mariners,
Be firm; take courage from the brave. 'Twas there
Perils and conflicts inexpresssible
Anson, with steady undespairing breast,
Endured, when o'er the various globe he chased
His country's foes. Fast-gathering tempests roused
Huge Ocean, and involved him: all around
Whirlwind, and snow, and bail, and horror: now,
Rapidly, with the world of waters, down
Descending to the channels of the deep,
He viewed the uncovered bottom of th' abyss;
And now the stars, upon the loftiest point
Tossed of the sky-mixed surges. Oft the burst
Of loudest thunder, with the dash of seas
Tore the wild-flying sails and tumbling masts;
While flames, thick-flashing, in the gloom revealed
Ruins of decks and shrouds, and sights of death.

Yet on he fared, with fortitude his cheer,
Gaining, at intervals, slow way beneath
Del Fuego's rugged cliffs, and the white ridge,
Above all height, by opening clouds revealed,
Of Montegorda, and inaccessible
Wreck-threatening Staten-land's o'erhanging shore, 620

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Enormous rocks on rocks, in ever-wild
Posture of falling; as when Pelion, rearod
On Ossa, and on Ossa's tottering head
Woody Olympus, by the angry gods
Precipitate on earth were doomed to fall.

At length, through every tempest, as some branch,
Which from a poplar falls into a loud
Impetuous cataract, though deep immersed,
Yet reascends, and glides, on lake or stream,
Smooth through the valleys: so his way he won
To the serene Pacific, flood immense,
And reared his lofty masts, and spread his sails.

Then Paita's walls, in wasting flames involved,
His vengeance felt, and fair occasion gave
To show humanity and continence,
To Scipio's not inferior. Then was left
No corner of the globe secure to pride
And violence: although the far-stretched coast
Of Chili, and Peru, and Mexico,
Armed in their evil cause; though fell disease,
Un’bating labour, tedious time, conspired,
And heat inclement, to unnerve his force;
Though that wide sea, which spreads o'er half the

Denied all hospitable land or port;
Where, seasons voyaging, no road he found
To moor, no bottom in the abyss, whereon
To drop the fastening anchor; though his brave
Companions ceased, subdued by toil extreme;
Though solitary left in Tinian's seas,
Where never was before the dreaded sound
Of Britain's thunder heard; his wave-worn bark
Met, fought, the proud Iberian, and o'ercame.
So fare it ever with our country's focs.


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Rejoice, ye nations, vindicate the sway
Ordained for common happiness. Wide o'er
The globe terraqueous let Britannia pour
The fruits of plenty from her copious horn.
What can avail to her, whose fertile earth
By ocean's briny waves are circumscribed,
The armèd host, and murdering sword of war,
And conquest o'er her neighbours? She ne'er breaks
Her solemn compacts, in the lust of rule:
Studious of arts and trade, she ne'er disturbs
The holy peace of states. 'Tis her delight
To fold the world with harmony, and spread
Among the habitations of mankind
The various wealth of toil, and what her fleece,
To clothe the naked, and her skilful looms,
Peculiar give. Ye too rejoice, ye swains;
Increasing commerce shall reward your cares.
A day will come, if not too deep we drink
The cup which luxury on careless wealth,
Pernicious gift, bestows; a day will come,
When, through new channels sailing, we shall clothe
The Californian coast, and all the realms
That stretch from Anian's straits to proud Japan;
And the green isles, which on the left arise
Upon the glassy brine, whose various capes
Not yet are figured on the sailor's chart:
Then every variation shall be told
Of the magnetic steel; and currents marked,
Which drive the heedless vessel from her course.

That portion too of land, a tract immense,
Beneath the Antarctic spread, shall then be known,
And new plantations on its coast arise.
Then rigid winter's ice no more shall wound
The only naked aninial; but man


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With the soft fleece shall everywhere be clothed. 688
Th' exulting Muse shall then, in vigour fresh,
Her flight renew. Meanwhile, with weary wing,
O'er ocean's wave returning, she explores
Siluria's flowery vales, her old delight,
The shepherd's haunts, where the first springs arise
Of Britain's happy trade, now spreading wide,
Wide as the Atlantic and Pacific seas,
Or as air's vital fluid o'er the globe.



SILENT nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple evening, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man,
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale:
Come with all thy various hues,
Come, and aid thy sister Muse;
Now while Phoebus riding high
Gives lustre to the land and sky!
Grongar Hill invites my song,
Draw the landscape bright and strong;
Grongar, in whose mossy cells
Sweetly-musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the even still,
At the fountain of a rill,


"Grongar hill:' in South Wales.

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