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In shameful sloth with nerves unstrung,
The sheets unfurl, and anchor's weigh,
The long-moor’d vesiel wing to sea,
Their sedgy foreheads lift, and smile;
Streams, charg’d with wealth, and vow to buy
Britannia for their great ally,
Hot China sends her painted jar,
With gales of incense swells cur fails,
Nor diitant Ind our merchant fails,
Or stream that glides, or wind that blows,
But flows, glides, breathes, shines, pours for thee?
heart dilates to see
The servant Ocean for thy fake
And fondly give, in boundless dower,
To mighty George's growing power,
Fair Virtue with the first renown :
When hearts for others welfare glow,
And spend as free as gods bestow, .
my breast ! abound my store !
Pasions and riches, good or ill,
As us'd by man, demand our skill;
'Tis vice and folly to despise : Let those in praise of poverty refine,
Whose heads or hearts pervert its use,
The narrow-foul'd, or the profuse, The truly-great find morals in the mine ;
Has learnt the rare, illustrious art
From gold, if more than chemic skill,
Extract not what is brighter ftill:
Exalted minds their joys extend:
As lofty turrets, by their height,
When humbler scenes resign their light, Retain the rays of the declining sun.
Pregnant with blessings, Britain ! swear
No fordid son of thine shall dare
Who now his whole creation drains
pour into thy tumid veins
Here nodding floats the golden plain ;
Lay forth their purple to the sun,
Beneath the soil, there harvests run, And kings' revenves ripen in the mines.
Man's foul to soften and refine;
That all may stand in need of all,
And interest draw around the ball,
pen His law supreme, to mortal men, In their neceflities distinctly writ:
Ev'n appetite fupplies the place
The wondering foreigner confound!
As her proud scepter d sons survey,
every port, on every quay,
Each prince his own clime set to sale
How earth 's abridg'd! all nations range
A narrow spot, our throng’d Exchange! And send the streams of plenty from their spring.
In aid to Britain's glorious ends :
Her keel each yielding sea enthrals,
Each willing wind her canvas calls,
What though we creep beneath the shade,
Heaven lighted-up the human soul,
Heaven bid its rays transpierce the whole,
Blest Reason! guide my life and pen;
Who thee obeys, reigns over all;
Smiles, though the stars around him fall;
Who scorns to stoop to Fortune's nod;
Others are passive, are impellid,
Are frighten'd, flatter'd, funk, or swellid, As acciilent is pleas’d to domineer.