Hence all the good from opulence that springs,

With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,

Are here display'd. Their much loved wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts;

But view them closer, craft and fraud appear,
E'en liberty itself is barter'd here.

At gold's superior charms all freedom flies,
The needy sell it, and the rich man buys;
A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves,
Here wretches seek dishonourable graves,
And, calmly bent, to servitude conform,

Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.

Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old!
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow,
How much unlike the sons of Britain now!

Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than famed Hydaspis glide ;
There all around the gentlest breezes stray,
There gentle music melts on every spray;

Creation's mildest charms are there combined,
Extremes are only in the master's mind;

Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state,
With daring aims irregularly great:

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,

I see the lords of humankind pass by ;

Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand,
Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,

True to imagined right, above control,

While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan,

And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured here,
Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear;
Too bless'd indeed were such without alloy,
But, foster'd e'en by freedom, ills annoy;

That independence Britons prize too high
Keeps man from man and breaks the social tie;
The self-dependent lordlings stand alone,

All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown;
Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held,

Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd;

Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar,

Repress'd ambition struggles round her shore;
Till, overwrought, the general system feels
Its motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels.
Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay,
As duty, love, and honour fail to sway,

Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,
Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe.
Hence all obedience bows to these alone,

And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown;

Till time may come, when, stripp'd of all her charms, The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms,

Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame,

Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for fame, One sink of level avarice shall lie,

And scholars, soldiers, kings unhonour'd die.

Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state,

I mean to flatter kings, or court the great:
Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire,
Far from my bosom drive the low desire!
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel;

Thou transitory flower, alike undone

By proud contempt or favour's fostering sun,

Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure! I only would repress them to secure;

For just experience tells, in every soil,

That those who think must govern those that toil;
And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each.
Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow,
Its double weight must ruin all below.

Oh, then how blind to all that truth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise to arms, Except when fast approaching danger warms: But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own; When I behold a factious band agree

To call it freedom when themselves are free; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law; The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam, Pillaged from slaves to purchase slaves at home;

Fear, pity, justice, indignation, start,

Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart;
Till half a patriot, half a coward grown,
I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.

Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour
When first ambition struck at regal power;
And thus, polluting honour in its source,

Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force.
Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore,
Her useful sons exchanged for useless ore?
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste,
Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste;
Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Lead stern depopulation in her train,

And over fields where scatter'd hamlets rose
In barren solitary pomp repose?

Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call,
The smiling long-frequented village fall?
Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd,
The modest matron, and the blushing maid
Forced from their homes, a melancholy train,
To traverse climes beyond the western main;

C