ODE XLV. SUNG BY MR. WEBB, OF THE SOCIETY FOR CONSTITUTIONAL INFORMATION, At the Shakspeare Tavern, on Tuesday, the 14th Day of May, 1782. BY SIR WILLIAM JONES. VERDANT myrtle's branchy pride Shall my biting falchion wreathe : Tubes that speak, and points that breathe. Thus, Harmodius, shone thy blade ! Thus, Aristogiton, thine ! Whose shall now delay to shine ? Dearest youths, in islands blest, Not, like recreant idiers, dead, And with godlike Diomed. Verdant myrtle's branchy pride Shall my thirsty blade entwine : Such, Harmodius, deck'd thy side! Such, Aristogiton, thine ! They the base Hipparchus slew, At the feast for Pallas crown'd; Gods! how swift their poniards flew ! How the monster ting'd the ground ! Then, in Athens all was peace, Equal laws and liberty : and of Greece! Not less glorious was thy deed, Wentworth, fix'd in Virtue's cause ; Nor less brilliant be thy meed, Lenox, friend to equal laws ! High in Freedom's temple rais’d, See Fitz-Maurice beaming stand, For collected virtues prais'd; Wisdom's voice, and Valour's hand ! Ne'er shall Fate their eyelids close : They, in blooming regions blest, With Harmodius shall repose, With Aristogiton rest. Noblest chiefs, a hero's crown Let the Athenian patriots claim : You less fiercely won renown; You assum'd a milder name. a They through blood for glory strove, You more blissful tidings bring; They to death a tyrant drove, You to fame restor'd a KING. Rise, Britannia, dauntless rise! Cheer'd with triple Harmony, Monarch good, and nobles wise, People valiant, firm, and FREE! ODE XLVI. By the Same. Ου λίθοι έδε ξύλα, έδε Alc, quoted by ARISTIDES. What constitutes a State ? Thick wall, or moated gate; Not bays and broad-arm’d ports, Not starr'd and spangled courts, No :-MEN, high ininded MEN, In fortst, brake, or den, Men, who their duties know, Prevent the long aim'd blow, And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain : These constitute a State; O'er thrones and globes elate Smit by her sacred frown, And e’en the all-dazzling Crown Such was this heav'n-lov’d isle, No more shall Freedom sinile ? Since all must life resign, 'Tis folly to decline, And steal inglorious to the silent grave. |