Gives every joy, and to thofe joys a right,
Which idle barbarous Rapine but ufurps.
Pure is thy reign, when, unaccurs'd by blood,
Nought fave the sweetness of indulgent flowers,
Trickling, diftils into the vernant glebe; 115
Inflead of mangled carcaffes, fad-feen,
When the blithe fheaves lie fcatter'd o'er the
field;

When only fhining fhares, the crooked knife,
And hooks, imprint the vegetable wound;
When the land blushes with the rofe alone,
The falling fruitage and the bleeding vine.
Oh, Peace! thou fource and foul of focial life,
Beneath whofe calm infpiring influence
Science his views enlarges, Art refines,

120

171

The fly deftruction at her vitals aim'd?
For, oh! it most imports you, 'tis your all,
To keep your trade entire, entire the force
And honour of your fleets; o'er that to watch,
E'en with a hand fevere, and jealous eye. 175
In intercourfe be gentle, generous, juft,
By wifdom polifh'd, and of manners fair;
But on the fea be terrible, untam'd,
Unconquerable fiill; let none escape,
Who fhall but aim to touch your glory there. 180
Is there the man, into the lion's den
Who dares intrude, to fnatch his young away?
And is a Briton feiz'd, and feiz'd beneath
The flumbering terrors of a British fleet?
Then ardent rife! oh! great in vengeance rife!
| O'erturn the proud, teach Rapine to restore; 186
And as you ride fublimely round the world,
Make every veffel ftoop, make every state
At once their welfare and their duty know.
| This is your glory; this your wisdom; this 190
The native power for which you were defign'd
130 By Fate, when Fate defign'd the firmest state
That e'er was feated on the fubject fea;

And fwelling Commerce opens all her ports; 125
Bleft be the man divine who gives us thee!
Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang,
Nor blow the giddy nations into rage;
Who eaths the murderous blade; the deadly
gun

135

Into the well-pil'd armoury returns;
And, every vigour from the work of death
To grateful induftry converting, makes
The country flourish, and the city fmile.
Unviolated, him the virgin fings,
And him the fmiling mother to her train:
Of him the thepherd, in the peaceful dale,
Chaunts and, the treasures of his labour fure,
The husbandman of him, as at the plough
Or team he toils. With him the failor fooths,
Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight
140

wave;

155

What painful patience? what inceffant care?.
What mixt anxiety? what flceplefs toil?
Een from the rash, protected, what reproach? 150
For he thy value knows, thy friendship, he,
To human nature: but the better thou,
The richer of delight, fometimes the more
Inevitable war' when ruffian Force
Awakes the fury of an ipjur'd ftate.
Een the good patient man, whom Reafon rules,
Rous'd by bold infult, and injurious rage,
With fharp and fudden check th' aftonish'd fons
Of Violence confounds; firm as his caufe
His bolder heart; in awful juftice clad,
His eyes effulging a peculiar fre;
And as he charges thro' the proftrate war,
His keen arm teaches faithlefs men no more
To dare the facred vengeance of the juft.
And what, my thoughtless Sons! fhould fire you

more,

For this your oaks peculiar harden'd, shoot
Strong into sturdy growth; for this your hearts
Swell with a fullen courage, growing ftill
As danger grows; and ftrength and toil for this
Are liberal pour'd o'er all the fervent land.
Then cherish this, this unexpenfive power
Undangerous to the public, ever prompt,
By lavish Nature thruft into your hand;
And, unencumber'd with the bulk immenfe
Of conquefts, whence huge empires rofe and fell ́
Self-crush'd, extend your reign from fhore to

Thore.

205

Where'er the wind your high behefts can blow,
And fix it deep on this eternal base.

For fhould the fliding fabric once give way,
Soon flackened quite and paft recovery broke,
It gathers ruin as it rolls along,

Steep-rufhing down to that devouring gulf 215
Where many a mighty empire buried lies.
And fhould the big redundant flood of Trade,
In which ten thousand thoufand labours join
Their feveral currents, till the boundless tide
Rolls in a radiant deluge o'er the land,
160 Should this bright ftream, the leaft inflected,
point

165

Than when your well earn'd Empire of the Deep
The leaft beginning injury receives?

What better caufe can call your lightning forth?
Your thunder wake? your dearest life demand?
What better caufe, than when your country fees

220

Its courfe another way, o'er other lands
The various treasure would refiftless pour,
Ne'er to be won again; its ancient tract
Left a vile channel, defolate, and dead,
With all around a miferable waste.
Not Egypt, were her better heaven, the Nile,
Turn'd in the pride of flow, when o'er his

rocks

And roaring cataracts, beyond the reach
Of dizzy Vifion pil'd, in one wide flash
An Ethiopian deluge foams amain,

225

230

(Whence wondering fable trac'd him from the ky ;)

Sloth, ignorance, dejection, flattery, fear,
Oppreffion raging o'er the wafte he makes, 265
The human being almost quite extinct,
And the whole fate in broad corruption faks.
Oh! fhun that gulf; that gaping ruin fhun!
235 And countlefs ages roll it far away

E'en not that prime of earth, where harvests
crowd

On untill'd harvefts all the teeming year,
If of the fat o'erflowing culture robb'd,
Were then a more uncomfortable wild,
Steril, and void, than, of her trade depriv'd,
Britons! your boafted ife: her princes funk,
Her high-built honour moulder'd to the duft,
Unnerv'd her force, her fpirits vanish'd quite,
With rapid wing her riches fed away,
Her unfrequented ports alone the fign
Of what he was, her merchants fcatter'd wide,
Her hellow fhops fhut up, and in her streets,
Her felds, woods, markets, villages and roads,
The chearful voice of labour heard no more, 246
Oh! let not, then, wafte luxury impair

241

That manly foul of toil, which firings your

nerves,

250

And your own proper happiness creates!
Oh! let not the foft penetrating plague
Creep on the free-born mind, and, working there,
With the fharp tooth of many a new-form'd
want,

Endlefs, and idle all, eat out the heart
Of Liberty, the high conception blast,
The noble fentiment, th' impatient scorn
Of bafe fubjection, and the fwelling with
For general good crafing from the mind;
While nought fave narrow felfifhnefs fucceeds,
And low design, the fneaking paffions all
Let loose, and reigning in the rankled breaft,
Induc'd at last, by fearce perceiv'd degrees,
Snapping the very frame of government
And life, a total diffolution comes;

E'en where the keen depreffive North defcends,
Still fpread, exalt, and actuate your powers!
While flavifh fouthern climates beam in vain. 275
And may a public fpirit from the Throne,
Where every virtue fits, go copious forth,
Live o'er the land, the finer arts inspire,
Make thoughtful Science raise his penfive head,
Blow the fresh bay, bid Induftry rejoice, 250
And the rough fons of loweft Labour smile;
As when, profufe of spring, the loosen'd Weft
Lifts up the pining year, and balmy breathes
Youth, life, and love, and beauty, o'er the world.

But hafte we from thefe melancholy frores, 28;
Nor to deaf winds and waves our fruitlefs plaint
Pour weak. The country claims our active aid;
That let us roam, and where we find a fpark
Of public virtue, blow it into flame.

255 Lo! now, my fons, the fons of Freedom! meet
In awful fenate: thither let us fly,
291
Burn in the patriot's thought, flow from his tongue
In fearlefs truth, myfelf, transform'd, prefde,
And hed the fpirit of Britannia round.

260

This faid, her fleeting form and airy train 295 Sunk in the gale, and nought but rugged rocks Rufh'd on the broken eye, and nought was heard But the rough cadence of the dashing wave.

LIBERTY, A POEM.

IN FIVE PARTS.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS
FREDERICK PRINCE OF WALES.

SIR,

Won, that preventing generofity, with

HEN I reflect upon that ready condefcen

which your Royal Highness received the following Poem under your protection, I can alone afcribe it to the recommendation and influence of the fubject. In you the caufe and concerns of Liberty have fo zealous a patron, as entitles whatever may have the least tendency to promote them to the diftinction of your favour: and who can entertain this delightful reflection, without feeling a pleafure far fuperior to that of the fondeft author, and of which all true lovers of their country muft participate? To behold the nobleft difpofitions of the prince and of the patriot united; and overflowing benevolence, generofity, and candour of heart, joined to an enlightened zeal for Liberty, an intimate perfuafion that on it depends the happiness and glory of both kings and people; to fee thefe shining out in public virtues, as they have hitherto fmiled in all the focial lights and private accomplishments of life, is a profpect that cannot but infpire a general fentiment of fatisfaction and gladnefs, more eafy to be felt than expreffed.

If the following attempt to trace Liberty from the firft ages, down to her excellent eftablishment in Great Britain, can at all merit your approbation, and prove an entertainment to your Royal Highnefs, if it can in any degree anfwer the dig. nity of the fubject, and of the name under which I prefume to fhelter it, I have my best reward particularly as it affords me an opportunity of declaring that I am, with the greateft zealand refpect, Sir, Your Royal Highness's

Moft obedient and moit devoted Servant,
JAMES THOMSON.

ANCIENT & MODERN ITALY COMPARED.
PART I.

The following Poem is thrown into the form of a poc-
tical Vifun. Its feene the ruins of ancient Rome.
The goddess of Liberty, who is fuppofed to speak
through the whole, appears chara&erifed as Bri-
tish Liberty, to verfe 44. Gives a view of ancient
Italy, and particularly of republican Rome, in
all her magnificence and glory, to ver. 112. This
contrafted by modern Italy; its wallies, mountains,
culture, cities, people; the difference appearing
frongest in the capital city, Rome, to ver. 234.
The ruins of the great works of Liberty more mag-
ficent than the borrowed pomp of Oppreffion;
end from them revived Sculpture, Painting, and
Architecture, to ver. 256. The oll Romans apof-
trophized, with regard to the feveral melancholy
changes in Italy: Horace, Tully, and Virgil, with
regard to their Tiber, Tufculum, and Naples, to
ver. 287. That once finest and most ornamentel
part of Italy, all along the Coast of Baiæ, how
changed, to ver. 321. This defeation of

Italy applied to Britain, to ver. 344. Address to the goddess of Liberty, that he would deduce, from the firf ages, her chief al fuments, the defcription of cohich conflitutes the fubject of the following parts of this Pot. She aints, and commands that she fays to be fung in Britain, ashefe happiness aring from Freedom anda limited Monarchy fhe marks, to ver. 391. An immediate Vifen attends, and paints her awords. Invecation.

My lamented Talbot! while with thee

The Mufe gay-rov'd the glad Helperian
round,

And drew the infpiring breath of ancient arts,
Ah! little thought the her returning verfe
Should fing her darling fubject to thy fade.
And does the myftic veil from mortal beam
Involve thofe eyes where every virtue fmil'd,
And all thy father's candid fpirit fhone?
The light of reafon, pure, without a cloud;
Full of the generous heart, the mild regard; 10
Honour difdaining blemish, cordial faith,
And limpid truth, that looks the very foul.
But to the death of mighty nations turn
My ftrain; be there abforpt the pivate tear.
Mufing I lay, warm from the facred walks 15
Where at each ftep Imagination burns ; ·
While featter'd wide around, awful and hoar,
Lies, a vaft monument! once-glorious Rome,
The tomb of Empire! Ruins! that efface
Whate'er of finish'd modern pomp can boast.
Snatch'd by these wonders, to that world where
thought

Power

20

26

Unfetter'd ranges, Fancy's magic hand
Led me anew o'er all the folemn fcene,
Still in the mind's pure eye more folemn dreft;
When firaight, methought, the fair majestic
Of Liberty appear'd; not, as of old,
Extended in her hand the cap and rod,
Whofe fave-enlarging touch gave double life ;
But her bright temples bound with British oak,
And naval honours nodded on her brow.
Sublime of port, loofe o'er her fhoulders flow'd
Her fea-green robe, with conftellations gay.
An ifland-goddefs now; and her high care
The Queen of Ines, the Mifirefs of the Main.
My heart beat filial transport at the fight,
And as the mov'd to fpeak, th' awaken'd Mufe
Liften'd intenfe. A while fhe look'd around,
With mournful eye the well-known ruins mark'd,
And then, her fighs repreffing, thus began.

33

Mine are thefe wonders, all thou feett is mine; But, ah! how chang'd! the falling, poor re

mains

Of what exalted once the Aufonian fhore.
Look back thro' time, and, rifing from the gloom,
Mark the dread scene that paints whate'er I fay,

The great Republic fee! that glow'd, fublime,
With the mixt freedom of a thousand ftates, 46
Rais'd on the thrones of kings her curule chair,
And by her fafces aw'd the subject world.
See bufy millions quickening all the land,
With cities throng'd, and teeming culture high
For Nature then fmil'd on her free-born fons, si
And pour'd the plenty that belongs to Men.

As they the private father greatly quell'd,
Stood up the public fathers of the ftate.
See Juttice judging there in human shape!
Hark! how with Freedom's voice it thunders
high,

Or in foft murmurs fink to Tully's tongue.
Her Tribes, her Cenfus, fee; her generous
troops,

Whofe pay was glory, and their best reward go
Free for their country and for Me to die,
Ere mercenary murder grew a trade.

Mark, as the purple triumph waves along.
The highest pomp and loweft fall of life.

Her feftive games, the school of heroes, fee;
Her Circus, ardent with contending youth;
Her freets, her temples, palaces, and baths,
Full of fair Forms of Beauty's eldest born,
And a people caft in Virtue's mold;
While Sculpture lives around, and Afian hills 100
Lend their best ftores to heave the pillar'd dome;
All that to Roman frength the fofter touch
Of Grecian art can join. But language fails
To paint this fun, this centre of mankind,
Where every virtue, glory, treasure, art,
Attracted ftrong, in heighten'd luftre met.

To raife against thy defolating rod.
There on the breezy brow, where thriving ftates
And famous cities, once, to the pleas'd fun
Far other scenes of ring culture spread,
Pale fhine thy ragged towns. Neglected round
Each harveft pines, the livid, lean produce
Of heartless Labour; while thy hated joys,
Not proper pleafure, lift the lazy hand,
Better to fink in foth the woes of life,
Than wake their rage with unavailing toil.
Hence drooping Art almost to Nature leaves
The rude unguided year. Thin wave the gifts
Of yellow Ceres, thin the radiant blush
Of orchard reddens in the warmest ray.
To weedy wildness run, no rural wealth
(Such as dictators fed) the garden pours.
Crude the wild olive flows, and foul the vine;
Nor juice Cocubian nor Falernian more
Streams life and joy, fave in the Mufe's bowl 1
Unfeconded by Art, the spinning race

Draw the bright thread in vain, and idly toil. 105 In vain, forlorn in wilds, the citron blows,

246

Myfterious mark'd with dark Egyptian lore;
Thefe endless wonders that this sacred Way
Illumine ftill, and confecrate to fame;
Thefe fountains, vafes, urns, and ftatues, charg'd
With the fine ftores of art-completing Greece
Mine is, befides, thy every later boast;
Thy Buonarotis, thy Palladios, Mine;
And Mine that fair designs which Raphael's foul
O'er the live canvafs, emanating, breath'd.
What would you fay, ye Conquerors of earth!
Ye Romans! could you raife the laurel'd head?
Could you the country fee, by feas of blood,
190 And the dread toil of ages, won fo dear,

Leaft delicate of powers, reluctant, there
Lays on the bed impure his heavy head.
Thy horrid wolk! dead, empty, unadorn'd;
See ftreets whofe echoes never know the voice
Of chearful Hurry, Commerce many-tongu'd,
And Art mechanic at his various talk,
Fervent employ'd Mark the defponding race,
Of occupation void, as void of hope; 185
Hope, the glad ray glanc'd from Eternal Good,
That life enlivens, and exalts its powers,
With views of fortune-madnefs all to them!
By thee relentlefs feiz'd their better joys,
To the foft aid of cordial airs they fly,
Breathing a kind oblivion o'er their woes,
And love and mufic melt their fouls away.
From feeble Justice fee how rafh Revenge,
Trembling, the balance fnatches, and the fword,
Fearful himself, to venal ruffians gives. 195
See where God's altar, nurfing Murder, ftands
With the red touch of dark afffins ftain'd.

200

206

But chief let Rome, the mighty City! fpeak
The full-exerted genias of thy reign.
Behold her rife amid the lifelefs walte,
Expiring Nature all corrupted round;
While the lone Tiber, thro' the defert plain
Winds his wafte flores, and fullen fweeps along.
Patch'd from my fragments, in unfolid pomp,
Mark how the temple glares, and, artful dreft,
Amufive, draws the fuperftitious train.
Mark how the palace, lifts a ly ng front,
Concealing often, in magnific jail,
Proudant; a deep unanimated gloom!
And oft' adjoining to the drear abode
Of Mifery, whofe melancholy walls
Seem its voracious grandeur to reproach.
Within the city-bounds the defert fec:
See the rank vine w'er fubterrranean roofs
Indecent fpread, beneath whofe fretted gold
It once exulting flow'd. The people mark,
Matchlefs, while fir'd by Me; to public good
Inexorably firm; juft, generous, brave;
Afraid of nothing but unworthy life;
Elate with glory, and heroic foul
Known to the vulgar breaft; behold them now
A thin defpairing nuniber, all-fubdu’d,
The flaves of flaves, by fuperftition fool'd,
By vice unmann'd, and a licentious rule,
In guile ingenious, and in murder brave.
Such in one land, beneath the fame fair clime,
Thy fons, Oppreffion! are, and fuch were Mine.
L'en with thy labour'd pomp, for whole vain
Ποιν

215

220

Your pride, your triumph, your fupreme delight!
For whose defence oft', in the doubtful hour,
You rush'd with rapture down the gulph of Fate,
Of death ambitious! till by awful deeds,
Virtues, and courage, that amaze mankind,
The Queen of Nations rofe, poffeft of all
Which Nature, Art and Glory, could beftow!
What would you fay, deep in the lat abyfs
Of flavery, vice, and unambitious want,
Thus to behold her funk? Your crowded plains
Void of their cities, unadorn'd your hills, 264
Ungrac'd your lakes, your ports to fhips unknown,
Your lawless floods, and your abandon'd ftreams,
Thefe could you know? thefe could you love
again!

Thy Tiber, Horace! could it now infpire
Content, poetic cafe, and rural joy,

Soon bursting into fong, while thro' the groves
Of headlong Anio, dashing to the vale,

271

285

210 In many a tortur'd ftream, you mus'd along?
Yon' wild retreat, where Superftition dreams,
Could, Tully! you your Tufculum believe?
And could you deem yon' naked hills, that form,
Fam'd in old fong, the fhip-forfaken bay,
Your Fermian fhore, once the delight of earth,
Where Art and Nature, ever-fmiling, join'd
On the gay land to lavish all their flores?
How chang'd, how vacant, Virgil! wide around,
Would now your Naples feem? difafter'd lefs 281
By black Vefuvius, thundering o'er the coast
His midnight earthquakes and his mining fires,
Than by defpotic rage; that inward gnaws,
A native foe; a foreign tears without.
First from your flatter'd Cæfars this began,
Till, doom'd to tyrants an eternal prey,
Thin peopled spreads, at laft, the fyren plain,
That the dire foul of Hannibal difarm'd,
And wrapt in weeds the hore of Venus lies
There Baiæ fees no more the joyous throng,
Her banks all beaming with the pride of Rome :
No generous vines now bafk along the hills,
Where sport the breezes of the Tyrrhene main:
With baths and temples mixt, no villas rife; 195
Nor, art-fuftain'd amid reluctant waves,
Draw the cool murmurs of the breathing deep:
No fpreading ports their facred arms extend;
No mighty moles, the big intrufive ftorm,
From the calm ftation, roll refounding back. 300
An almoft total-defolation fits.

225

Deluded thoufands ftarve, all age begrim'd,
horn, robb'd, and featter'd in unnumber'à facks,
And by the tempeft of two thousand years
Continual fhaken, let My ruins vie.
Thefe roads, that yet the Roman hand affert,
Beyond the weak repair of modern toil;
Thefe fractur'd arches, that the chiding ftream
No more delighted hear; thefe rich remains
Of marbles now unknown, where fhines, imbib'd,
Each parent ray; thefe maffy columns hew'd
From Afric's fartheft fhore; one granite all
Thefe obelifks high-towering to the sky,
YOL. VIL

240

A dreary ftillness, faddening o'er the coaft;
Where, when foft funs and tepid winter's rofe,
3 P
Rejoicing