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Britain! To these, and such as these,

The river broad, and foaming seas
Which sever lands to mortals lefs renown'd,

Devoid of naval skill or might;

Those sever'd parts of earth unite :
Trade 's the full pulfe, that fends their vigour round.

Could, O! could one engrofing hand

The various streams of Trade command,
That, like the sun, would gazing nations awe;

That awful Power the world would brave,

Bold War, and Empire proud, his slave;
Mankind his subjects; and his Will, their law.

Haft thou look'd round the spacious earth?

From Commerce, Grandeur 's humble birth:
To George from Noah, empires living, dead,

Their pride, their shame, their rise, their fall,

Time’s whole plain chronicle is all
One bright encomium, undesign’d, on Trade.

Trade springs from Peace, and Wealth from Trade,

And Power from Wealth ; of Power is made The God on Earth : hail, then, the dove of Peace!

Whose olive speaks the raging flood

Of war repress’d: what 's loss of blood ? War is the death of Commerce and Increase.


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Then perish War!--Detested War!

Shalt thou make Gods ? light Cæsar's star?
What calls man fool so loud as this has done,

From Nimrod's down to Bourbon's line?

Why not adore too, as divine,
Wide-wasting storms, before the genial fun ?

Peace is the Merchant's summer clear !

His harvest! harvest round the year!
For Peace with laurel every mast be bound;

Each deck carouse, each flag stream out,

Each cannon found, each sailor shout!
For Peace let every sacred ship be crown'd!

Sacred are ships, of birth divine !

An angel drew the first design ;
With which the Patriarch Nature's ruins bray'd:

Two worlds aboard, an old and new,

He safe o’er foaming billows flew :
The Gods made Human race, a Pilot, fav’d.

How sacred too the Merchant's name !

When Britain blaz’d meridian Fame *;
Bright shone the sword, but brighter trade gave law;

Merchants in distant courts rever'd,

Where prouder Statesmen ne’er appear’d, Merchants Emballadors ! and Thrones in awe !

XXXI, 'Tis * In Queen Elizabeth's reign.

'Tis theirs to know the tides, the times;

The march of stars; the births of climes;
Summer and Winter theirs; theirs land and sea,

Theirs are the seasons, months, and years;

And each a different garland wears :-
O that my song could add Eternity !

Praise is the sacred oil that feeds

The burning lamp of god-like deeds;
Immortal glory pays illustrious cares :
Whither, ye
Britons ! are ye

bound? O noble voyage! glorious round ! Launch from the Thames, and end among the stars.

If to my subje£t rose my soul,

Your fame should last while oceans roll:
When other worlds in depths of time shall rise,

As we the Geeeks of mighty name,

May they Britannia's fleet proclaim,
Look up, and read her story in the skies.

Ye Syrens, fing; ye Tritons, blow;

Ye Nereids, dance; ye Billows, flow;
Roll to my measures, Oye Starry Throng!

Ye Winds! in concert breathe around;

Ye Navies ! to the concert bound
From Pole to Pole! To Britain all belong.



The most happy should be the most virtuous. Of

Eternity. What Britain's arts should be. Whence

BRITAIN! thus blest, thy blessing know;

Or bliss, in vain! the Gods bestow;
Its end fulfil, means cherith, fource adore :

Vain swellings of thy foul repress;

They most may lose, who most pollefs; Then let bliss awe, and tremble at thy store.

Nor be too fond of life at best,

Her chearful, not enamour'd guest :
Let thought fly forward; 'twill gay prospects give;

Prospects immortal! that deride

A Tyrian wealth, a Persian pride, And make it perfect fortitude to live.

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O for Eternity! a scene

To fair adventurers serene !
O! on that sea to deal in pure renown!

Traffick with Gods! What transports roll !

What boundless import to the soul!
The poor man's empire! and the subjects crown!

IV. Adore

Adore the Gods, and plough the feas :

These be thy arts, O Britain! these.
Let others pant for an immerse command;

Let others breathe war's fiery God;

The proudest victor fears thy nod, Long as the trident fills thy glorious hand.


Glorious, while Heaven-born Freedom lafts;

Which Trade's soft spurious daughter blafts; For what is Tyranny? A monstrous birth

From Luxury, by bribes caress’d,

By glowing Power in shades compress'd; Which stalks around, and chains the groaning earth,


This subje£t now first sung. How sung. Preferable

to Pindar's subjects. How Britain should be sung

by All.


THEE, Trade! I first, who boast no store,

Who owe thee nought, thus snatch from fore, The shore of Prose, where thou hast slumber'd long;

And send thy flag triumphant down

The tide of Time, to sure renown; bless my country! and thou pay'ft my fong.

II. Thou

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