Each crouded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power,
And, murmuring, challeng'd the deciding hour.
Lo! the deciding hour at last appears;
The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears!
Thou, Genius! Guardian of the Roman name,
O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame!
Inftruct the mighty moments as they rowl,
And guide each movement steady to the goal.
Ye fpirits, by whose providential art
Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart,
Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind,
And watch his fancy, and his paffions bind!
Ye fhades immortal, who, by Freedom led,
Or in the field, or on the fcaffold bled,
Bend from your radiant feats a joyful eye,
And view the crown of all your labours nigh.
See Freedom mounting her eternal throne!
The fword fubmitted, and the laws her own:
See public Power chaftis'd beneath her stands,
With eyes intent, and uncorrupted hands!
See private life by wifeft arts reclaim'd!
See ardent youth to noblest manners fram'd!
See us acquire whate'er was fought by you,
If Curio, only Curio will be true.

'Twas then-O Shame! O Trust how ill repaid!
O Latium, oft by faithlefs fons betray'd!-
'Twas then-What frenzy on thy reason stole?
What spells unfinew'd thy determin'd soul ?
-Is this the man in Freedom's caufe approv'd?
The man fo great, fo honour'd, fo belov'd?

This patient flave by tinfel chains allur'd?
This wretched fuitor for a boon abjur'd?

This Curio, hated and despis'd by all?
Who fell himself, to work his country's fall?
O loft, alike to action and repoft!
Unknown, unpitied in the worst of woes!
With all that confcious, undiffembled pride,
Sold to the infults of a foe defy'd!

With all that habit of familiar fame,
Doom'd to exhauft the dregs of life in shame!
The fole fad refuge of thy baffled art,
To act a statesman's dull, exploded part,
Renounce the praise no longer in thy power,
Difplay thy virtue, though without a dower,
Contemn the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind,
And fhut thy eyes that others may be blind.
-Forgive me, Romans, that I bear to smile
When shameless mouths your majefty defile,
Paint you a thoughtless, frantic, headlong crew,
And caft their own impieties on you.

For witnefs, Freedom, to whofe facred power
My foul was vow'd from reafon's earliest hour,
How have I stood exulting, to furvey
My country's virtues opening in thy ray!
How, with the fons of every foreign shore

The more I match'd them, honour'd her's the more!

O race erect! whofe native ftrength of soul,

Which kings, nor priests, nor fordid laws control,
Burts the tame round of animal affairs,

And feeks a nobler centre for its cares;

Intent the laws of life to comprehend,
And fix dominion's limits by its end.
Who, bold and equal in their love or hate,
By confcious reafon judging every ftate,
The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise:
Thence prompt alike with witty scorn to view
Faftidious grandeur lift his folemn brow,
Or, all awake at Pity's foft command,

Bend the mild ear, and stretch the gracious hand :
Thence large of heart, from envy far remov❜d,
When public toils to virtue stand approv'd,
Not the young lover fonder to admire,
Nor more indulgent the delighted fire;
Yet high and jealous of their free-born name,
Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame,
Where'er Oppreffion works her wanton sway,
Proud to confront, and dreadful to repay.
But if, to purchase Curio's fage applause,
My country muft with him renounce her caufe,
Quit with a flave the path a patriot trod,
Bow the meek knee, and kifs the regal rod;
Then ftili, ye powers, instruct his tongue to rail,
Nor let his zeal, nor let his fubject fail :

Elfe, ere he change the ftyle, bear me away
To where the Gracchi *, where the Bruti stay!

O long *The two brothers, Tiberius and Caius Gracchus loft their lives in attempting to introduce the only regulation that could give stability and good order to the Roman republic. L. Junius Brutus founded the commmonwealth, and died in its defence. AKENSIDE,

O long rever'd, and late refign'd to shame!
If this uncourtly page thy notice claim
When the loud cares of bufinefs are withdrawn,
Nor well-dreft beggars round thy footsteps fawn
In that ftill, thoughtful, folitary hour,

When Truth exerts her unrefifted power,
Breaks the falfe optics ting'd with Fortune's glare,
Unlocks the breaft, and lays the paffions bare:
Then turn thy eyes on that important scene,
And ask thyfelf-if all be well within.

Where is the heart-felt worth and weight of foul,
Which labour could not stop, nor fear control?
Where the known dignity, the stamp of awe,
Which, half abash'd, the proud and venal faw?
Where the calm triumphs of an honeft cause?
Where the delightful taste of just applause?
Where the strong reafon, the commanding tongue,
On which the fenate fir'd or trembling hung?
All vanish'd, all are fold-And in their room,
Couch'd in thy bosom's deep, diftracted gloom,
See the pale form of barbarous grandeur dwell, -
Like fome grim idol in a forcerer's cell!
To her in chains thy dignity was led ;
At her polluted fhrine thy honour bled;

With blafted weeds thy awful brow fhe crown'd,
Thy powerful tongue with poison'd philters bound,
That baffled reason straight indignant flew,
And fair perfuafion from her feat withdrew:
For now no longer Truth fupports thy cause;
No longer Glory prompts thee to applause ;.

No longer Virtue breathing in thy breaft,
With all her confcious majefty confest,

Still bright and brighter wakes the Almighty flame,
To rouze the feeble, and the wilful tame,

And where the fees the catching glimpfes rowl,
Spreads the strong blaze, and all involves the foul;
But cold restraints thy conscious fancy chill,
And formal paffions mock thy struggling will;
Or, if thy Genius e'er forget his chain,

And reach impatient at a nobler strain,
Soon the fad bodings of contemptuous mirth
Shoot through thy breast, and stab the generous birth,
Till, blind with fmart, from Truth to Frenzy toft,
And all the tenor of thy reafon lost,

Perhaps thy anguish drains a real tear;

While fome with pity, fome with laughter hear.
-Can Art, alas! or Genius, guide the head,
Where Truth and Freedom from the heart are fled?
Can leffer wheels repeat their native stroke,
When the prime function of the foul is broke?

But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend;
Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou haft a friend;
Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine,
Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign;
For fee the hand of Deftiny difplay'd

To thut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd!
See the dire fane of Infamy arise !

Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies;
Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train,
The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain.

Eternal