Her ornamented head, drill'd thro' the hands
Of mercenary tools, serves but to nurse
A locuft-band within, and in the bud
Leaves stary'd each work of dignity and use.
I paint the worst: but should these times arrive,
If any nobler passion yet remain,
Let all My fons all parties fling aside,
Despise their nonsense, and together join;
Let Worth and Virtue, scorning low despair,
Exerted full, from every quarter shine,
Commix'd in heightened blaze. Lightflash'dtolight,
Moral, or intellectual, more intense
By giving glows. As on pure winter's eve,
Gradual, the stars effulge, fainter, at first,
They, straggling, rise; but when the radiant host,
In thick profusion pour'd, shine out immenfe,
Each cafting vivid influence on each,
From pole to pole a glittering deluge plays, 365 And worlds above rejoice, and men below.
But why to Britons this superfluous strain ?Good-nature, honest truth, even somewhat blunt, Of crooked baseness an indignant scorn, A zeal unyielding in their country's cause, And ready bounty, wont to dwell with themNor only wont-Wide o'er the land diffus'd,
In many a blest retirement still they dwell.
To fofter profpect turn we now the view, To laurell'd Science, Arts, and Public Works. 375
That lend My finish'd fabric comely pride,
Grandeur and grace. Of fullen genius he!
Curs'd by the Muses! by the Graces loath'd !
Who deems beneath the Public's high regard
These last enlivening touches of My reign.
However puff'd with power, and gorg'd with wealth,
A nation be! let trade enormous rife,
Let East and South their mingled treasure pour,
Till, fwell'd impetuous, the corrupting flood
Burst o'er the City and devour the land;
Yet these neglected, these recording Arts,
Wealth rots, a nuisance; and, oblivious sunk,
That nation must another Carthage lie.
If not by them on monumental brass,
On fculptur'd marble, on the deathless page, 390
Imprest, renown had left no trace behind;
In vain, to future times, the sage had thought,
The legiflator plann'd, the hero found
A beauteous death, the patriot toil'd in vain :
Th' awarders they of Fame's immortal wreath; 395
They rouze Ambition, they the mind exalt,
Give great ideas, lovely forms intufe,
Delight the general eye, and drest by them,
The moral Venus glows with double charms.
Science, My close associate, stills attends
Where'er I go. Sometimes in fimple guise
She walks the furrow with some Consul-fwain,
Whispering unletter'd wisdom to the heart,
Direct; or, sometimes, in the pompous robe
Of Fancy drest, she charms Athenian wits,
And a whole sapient city round her burns.
Then o'er her brow Minerva's terrors nod.
With Xenophon, sometimes, in dire extremes,
She breathes deliberate foul, and makes retreat *
Unequall'd glory. With the Theban sage,
Epaminondas, first and best of men!
Sometimes she bids the deep-embattled host,
Above the vulgar reach resistless form'd,
March to sure conquest-never gain'd before t!
Nor on the treacherous feas of giddy state
Unskilful she, when the triumphant tide
Of high-fwoln Empire wears one boundless smile,
And the gale tempts to new pursuits of fame,
Sometimes, with Scipio, she collects her fail,
And seeks the blissful shore of rural ease,
Where, but the Aonian maids, no Sirens sing:
Or should the deep-brew'd tempeft muttering rife,
While rocks and shoals perfidious lurk around,
With Tully she her wide-reviving light
To fenates holds, a Catiline confounds,
And faves a while from Cæfar finking Rome.
Such the kind power whose piercing eye diffolves
Each mental fetter, and fets reafon free;
For Me inspiring an enlighten'd zeal,
The more tenacious as the more convinced
How happy Freemen, and how wretched Slaves.
To Britons not unknown, to Britons full
The goddess spreads her stores, the fecret foul
That quickens Trade, the breath unfeen that wafts
To them the treasures of a balanc'd world:
But finer arts (fave what the Mufe has fung
In daring flight, above all modern wing)
Neglected droop the head, and Public Works,
Broke by corruption into Private gain,
Not ornament, disgrace; not serve, destroy.
Shall Britons, by their own joint wisdom rul'd,
Beneath one Royal head, whose vital power
Connects, enlivens, and exerts the whole;
In finer arts and Public Works, shall they
To Gallia yield? yield to a land that bends,
Deprest, and broke, beneath the will of one ?
Of one who, should th' unkingly thirst of gold,
Or tyrant paffions, or ambition, prompt,
Calls locuft-armies o'er the blasted land;
Drains from its thirsty bounds the springs of wealth,
His own insatiate reservoir to fill;
To the lone defert Patriot-merit frowns,
Or into dungeons Arts, when they their chains,
Indignant, bursting, for their nobler works
All other licence scorn but Truth's and Mine.
Oh! shame to think! shall Britons, in the field
Unconquer'd still, the better laurel lofe?
Even in that monarch's reign * who vainly dreamt,
By giddy power betray'd, and flatter'd pride,
To grasp unbounded sway; while, swarming round,
His armies dar'd all Europe to the field;
To hostile hands while treasure flow'd profufe,
And, that great fource of treasure, subjects' blood,
Inhuman squander'd, ficken'd every land;
From Britain, chief, while My superior fons, 465
In vengeance rushing, dash'd his idle hopes,
And bade his agonizing heart be low;
Even then, as in the golden calm of peace!
What Public Works, at home, what Arts arose!
What various Science shone! what Genius glow'd!
'Tis not for me to paint, diffusive shot
O'er fair extents of land, the shining Road;
The flood-compelling Arch; the long Canal +
Thro' mountains piercing and uniting seas;
The Dome refounding sweet with infant joy, 475
From Famine fav'd, or cruel-handed Shame.
And that where Valour counts his noble scars ‡;
The land where social pleasure loves to dwell,
Of the fierce demon, Gothic Duel, freed;
The Robber from his furthest forest chas'd;
+ The canal of Languedoc.
The hofpitals for Foundlings and Invalids.
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