III.

This council fuits Britannia's Ifle, High-flush'd with wealth, and Freedom's fmile: To vaffals prifon'd in the Continent,

Who ftarve, at home, on meager toil,

And fuck to death their mother foil, 'Twere useless caution, and a truth mis-spent.

IV.

Fell Tyrants strike beyond the bone,

And wound the foul; bow Genius down,
Lay Virtue wafte! for worth or arts, who strain,
To throw them at a monster's foot?
'Tis property fupports purfuit:
Freedom gives eloquence; and Freedom, gain.

V.

She pours the thought, and forms the style,
She makes the blood and fpirits boil;

I feel her now! and roufe, and rife, and rave
In Theban fong: O Mufe! not thine,
Verfe is gay Freedom's gift divine :
The man that can think greatly, is no slave.

VI.

Others may traffick if they please ;

Britain, fair daughter of the feas,

Is born for trade; to plough her field, the wave;
And reap the growth of every coast:

A fpeck of land! but let her boast,

Gods gave the world, when they the waters gave.

VII, Britain!

VII.

Britain behold the world's wide face; Nor cover'd half with folid space, Three parts are fluid; empire of the sea!

And why? for Commerce. Ocean ftreams For that, through all his various names : And, if for Commerce, Ocean flows for Thee.

VIII.

Britain, like fome great potentate

Of Eastern clime, retires in state,

Shuts out the nations! Would a Prince draw nigh ?
He paffes her strong guards, the waves,
Of fervant winds admiffion craves,
Her empire has no neighbour but the sky.

IX.

There are her friends; foft Zephyr there,
Keen Eurus, Notus never fair,

Rough Boreas bursting from the pole: all urge,
And urge for her, their various toil;

The Cafpian, the broad Baltick boil,

And into life the dead Pacifick fcourge.

X.

There are her friends, a marfhal'd train:
A golden hoft! and azure plain !

By turns do duty, and by turns retreat :

They may retreat, but not from her;
The ftar that quits this hemisphere

Muft quit the kies, to want a British fleet.

XI.

Hyad, for her, leans o'er her urn;
For her, Orion's glories burn,

The Pleiads gleam. For Britons fet and rife
The fair-fac'd fons of Mazaroth,

Near the deep chambers of the South,
The raging Dog that fires the midnight skies.

XII.

Thefe nations Newton made his own;
All intimate with him alone.

His mighty foul did, like a giant, run
To the vast volume's clofing ftar;
Decypher'd every character:

His reafon pour'd new light upon the fun.

XIII.

Let the proud brothers of the land Smile at our rock and barren strand, Not fuch the sea: let Fohé's ancient line Vaft tracts and ample beings vaunt; The camel low, fmall elephant

O Britain! the Leviathan is thine.

XIV.

Leviathan! whom Nature's ftrife

Brought forth, her largest piece of life; He fleeps an ifle! his sports the billows warm! Dreadful Leviathan! thy spout

Invades the fkies; the ftars are out:

He drinks a river, and ejects a form.

XV, Th'

XV.

Th' Atlantic furge around our shore
German and Caledonian roar;

Their mighty Genii hold us in their lap.

Hear Egbert, Edgar, Ethelred;

"The feas are ours."-The monarch faid

The floods their hands, their hands the nations, clap.

XVI.

Whence is a rival, then, to rise?

Can he be found beneath the skies?

No, there, they dwell, that can give Britain fear:
The powers of earth, by rival aim

Her grandeur but the more proclaim;

And prove

their distance moft, as they draw near.

XVII.

Proud Venice fits amid the waves;

Her foot ambitious Ocean laves :

Art's nobleft boaft! but O what wondrous odds

'Twixt Venice and Britannia's ifle!

'Twixt mortal and immortal toil! Britannia is a Venice built by Gods.

XVIII.

Let Holland triumph o'er her foes,

But not o'er friends by whom she rose ; The child of Britain! And fhall fhe contend? It were no less than parricide

What wonders rife from out the tide! Her High and Mighty to the rudder bend.

XIX.

And are there, then, of lofty brow,
Who think trade mean, and scorn to bow
So far beneath the state of noble birth?

Alas! thefe chiefs but little know

Commerce how high, themselves how low; The fons of Nobles are the fons of earth.

XX.

And what have earth's mean fons to do,
But reap her fruits, and warm purfue
The world's chief good, not glut on others' toil?
High Commerce from the Gods came down,
With compass, chart, and starry crown,
Their delegate, to make the nations fmile..

XXI.

Blush, and behold the Ruffian bow,

From forty crowns, his mighty brow
To trade. To toil he turns his glorious hand:
That arm, which swept the bloody field,
See the huge axe, or hammer, wield;
While Scepters wait, and thrones impatient stand..
XXII.

O fhame to fubjects! first renown,
Matchlefs example to the crown!

Old Time is poor: what age boafts such a fight?
Ye drones! adore the man divine-

No; Virtue ftill as mean decline,

Call Ruffians barbarous, and yourselves polite.

XXIII. He