University of Virginia Library

When stopp'd beneath the Grampian's rugged Height,
The Roman Eagles check'd their prædal Flight;
While every Pow'r that watch'd Britannia's Fate,
In Silence, seem'd the doubtful Day to wait!
In Terms like these,—great Galgagus address'd
His faithful Few! and eas'd his lab'ring Breast! —

“When round this Camp, I cast my ravish'd Eyes,
“And view the glorious Cause that bids us rise!
“Methinks the long expected Hour is come,
“To stop the Progress of usurping Rome!
“These Arms, my Friends! that never felt their Chain,
“These Arms must Britain's latest Hopes sustain:
“Beneath their Yoke surrounding Nations groan,
“Our Country's Safety lives in us alone!
“On us her longing Eyes impatient wait,
“On us depends her everlasting Fate!
“All further Means of Refuge now are vain,
“And Death or Liberty alone remain;
“In vain amongst these Rocks we hop'd to find,
“Peace and the native Freedom of Mankind;
“Ev'n here, our Foes, our last Retreat have found,
“And envy us th'uncultivated Ground:
“Nor think Submission can prevent our Chain,
“To us, Submission would itself prove vain;
“See from their Hands what Mercy will ye find?
“These civiliz'd Destroyers of Mankind!
“Whose boundless Lust of Riches and of Sway,
“Has ravag'd all the wasted World for Prey;
“And like a marching Plague, by Fraud or Force,
“Has blasted Nature in its deadly Course!
“With specious Arts has veil'd its baneful Face,
“Call'd Rapine Virtue, and Destruction Peace! —
“See! wheresoe'er their conq'ring Arms have gone,
“What Woes attend the vanquish'd and undone?
“View Sons and Brothers from their Dwellings torn,
“In distant Lands their servile Fortune mourn!
“Our faithful Matrons, and our spotless Maids,
“Their Guile seduces, or their Pow'r invades!
“Their Goods and Lands, the haughty Victor's Spoil,
“Themselves reserv'd as Slaves to work the Soil!
“Compell'd, thro' Blows and Hardships to obey,
“And wear in ceaseless Tasks slow Life away:
“Others by Birth, may wear the cursed Chain,
“And drudge for those who do their Life sustain;
“But Britain daily aids the Yoke she scorns,
“And feeds that Insolence and Pride she mourns:
“As in domestic Usage to the rest,
“Still the last Slave becomes a constant Jest;
“So we, the last of uninslav'd Mankind,
“Shall be the Sport and Laughter of our Kind!
“Nor Fields have we to till, nor Mines to drain,
“Nor Ports to open for the Victor's Gain:
“But Rocks and Woods are all the Wealth we boast,
“And yet our all we lose,—when these are lost!
“Let Freedom, then my Friends! your Souls inspire,
“And warm your Bosoms with Heroic Fire!
“If led to Conquest by a Female Hand,
“Rome scarce a Britain Heroine could withstand;
“But to her antient Cunning had recourse,
“And triumph'd by Division, not by Force;
“In us, as yet unalter'd, firm and free,
“Her boasted Sons, let Caledonia see!
“To whose known Virtue she commits her Cause,
“And trusts her future Liberty and Laws:—
“Nor think the Roman Force in Battle try'd
“Equals their home-bred Luxury and Pride;
“In our Dissentions half their Hope they place,
“And raise their Trophies on our own Disgrace;
“From distant Climes they form their venal Bands,
“Whom Plunder arms, and ill Success disbands;
“Nor think or Gauls or German are so blind,
“To waste their Blood, a hated Yoke to bind?
“Terror and Fear are slender Ties of Love,
“Which when your conqu'ring Arms shall once remove,
“Will soon transform'd to nobler Passions glow,
“And aid our Vengeance on the common Foe!
“For us, Success displays its fairest Charms,
“To fire our Hearts, and animate our Arms.
“No Wives the Romans have, no helpless Friends,
“Whose Life and Safety on their own depends;
“No native Land have they — or distant far,
“Unjust their Cause, and unprovok'd the War;—
“See! how surpriz'd they view the Wilds around,
“And trembling tread along the hostile Ground!
“Thro' Woods and Rocks direct their cautious Way,
“And seem distrustful ev'n of Earth and Sea!
“Bewilder'd, thus, to our avenging Hand
“The righteous Gods have given this lawless Band:—
“Dread not their haughty Mien, and glitt'ring Show,
“A weak Defence against a valiant Foe!
“Vain are the Rays their splendid Dresses send,
“Gaudy to shine, but useless to defend;
“Amongst themselves we may on Aid depend,
“And every Briton is our secret Friend;
“For us they wish,—while for the Foe they fight,
“And in their Hearts assist our social Right!
“Once let your Virtue break the Force you see,
“Your injur'd Country is for ever free!
“Before your Eyes, your latest Choice remains,
“Freedom, or Death, or everlasting Chains;
“This to enjoy, or under these to groan,
“Depends, my Friends! upon yourselves alone;
“Think that your generous Ancestors were free!
“If they were so — what must your Children be?
“Undaunted then the Paths of Honour try,
“And live with Freedom, or with Glory die!