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Here, no demand for fancy's wing;

Plain truth 's illustrious : as I sing,
O hear yon spangled harp repeat my lay!

Yon starry lyre has caught the sound,

And spreads it to the planets round,
Who best can tell where ends Britannia's fway,

The skies (fair-printed page!) unfold

The naval fame of heroes old ;
As in a mirror shew th' adventurous throng:

The deeds of Grecian mariners

Are read by Gods, are writ in stars,
And noble verse, that shall endure as long-

The skies are records of the main,

Thence Argo listens to my strain;
Chiron, for fong renown'd, his noble rage

For naval fame and song renews,

As Britain's fame he hears, and views
Chiron, the Shovell of a former age.

The Whale (for late I sung his praise)

Pours grateful lustre on my lays;
How smiles Arion's friend * with partial beams!

Eridanus would flatter too,

But jealousies his smile subdue; He fears a British rival in the Thames.

VU. In * The Dolphin,

T 2

In pride the Lion lifts his mane,

To see his British brothers reign
As stars below: the Balance, George! from Thine,

Which weighs the nations, learns to weigh

More accurate the night and day ;
From thy fair daughters Virgo learns to shine.

Of Britain's court, ye leser lights !

How could the wise-man gaze whole nights
On Richmond's eye, on Berenice's hair !

But, oh! you practise fameful arts ;

Your own retain, seize others' hearts,
Pirates, not merchants, are the British Fair.

This truth I swear by Cynthia's beam.

Pale Queen! be fush'd at Britain's fame;
And, rolling, tell the nations" o'er the main

“ To fbare her empire is thy pride.”

He, mighty power! who curbs the tide,
Uncurbs, extends, throws wide Britannia's reign.

What is the main ? Ye Kings renown'd!

Britannia's centre, and your bound:
Austrian! where-e'er Leviathan can roll,

Is Britain's home! And Britain's mine,

Where-e'er the ripening fun can shine, Parts are for emperors; for ber the whole.

XI. Why,

Why, Austrian ! wilt thou hover still

On doubtful wing, and want the skill
To see thy welfare in the world's? Too late

Another Churchill thou may'st find,

Another Churchill, not so kind,
And other Blenheims, big with other fate.

Ill thou remember'st, ill dost own,

Who rescued an ungrateful throne;
Ill thou consider'st, that the kind are brave;

Ill dost thou weigh, that in Time's womb

A day may sleep, a day of doom,
As great to ruin, as was That to save.

How would'st thou smile to hear my strain,

Whose boafted inspiration's vain!
Yet what if my prediction should prove true ?

Know'st thou the fatal pair who shine

O’er Britain's trading empire? Thine
As one rejected, what, if one subdue ?

What naval scene adorns the feat

Of awful Britain's high debate *,
Inspires her councils, and records her power ?

The nations know, in glowing balls

On finking thrones, the tempest falls, When her august assembled fenates lour.

T 3

XV, Q * The Spanish Armada in the House of Lords.

O language fit for thoughts so bold !

Would Britain have her anger told;
Ah! never let a meaner language found,

Than that which prostrates human souls,

Through Heaven's dark vault impetuous rollsz And Nature rocks, when angry Jove has frown’d.

Not realms unbounded, not a flood

Of natives, not expence of blood,
Or reach of counsel gives the world a lord:

Trade calls him forth, and sets him high,

As mortal man, o'er men can fly :
Trade leaves poor gleanings to the keenest sword.

Nay, her 's the sword ! For fleets have wings;

Like lightning fly to distant kings;
Like Gods descend at once on trembling states :

Is war proclaim'd ? Our wars are hurld

To farthest confines of the world,
Surprize your ports, and thunder at your gates.

The king of tempests, Æolus,

Sends forth his pinion'd pcople, thus,
On rapid errands : as they fly, they roar,

And carry sobie clouds, and freep

The land, the defert, and the deep! Earth shakes! proud cities fall! and thrones adore!

XIX. The

The Fools of Nature ever strike

On bare outsides; and loath, or like,
As glitter bids; in endless error vie ;

Admire the purple and the crown :

Of human welfare and renown,
Trade is the big heart; bright empire, but their eye,

Whence Tartar GRAND? or Mogul GREAT!

Trade gilt their titles, pour'd their state ;
While Afric's black, lascivious, fothful breed,

To clasp their ruin, fly from toil;

That meanest product on their soil,
Their people fell: one half on t'other feed.

Of Nature's Wealth from Commerce rent,

Afric 's a glaring Monument :
Mid citron forests and pomegranate groves

(Curst in a paradise !) she pines ;

O’er generous glebe, o’er golden mines
Her beggar'd, famish'd, tradeless native roves :

Not so thine, China, blooming-wide!

Thy numerous fleets might bridge the tide ;
Thy products would exhaust both India's mines :

Shut be that gate of Trade ! Or woe

To Britain's! Europe 'twill o'erflow.Ungrateful fong! Her growth * inspires thy lines.

T 4

XXIII. Bri* Coffee.

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