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 | The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes |  |
Their sacred dust with recent laurels crown,
By your own valour won. This sacred isle,
Cut from the Continent, that world of slaves;
This temple built by Heaven's peculiar care,
In a recess from the contagious world,
With ocean pour'd around it for its guard;
And dedicated long to Liberty,
That health, that strength, that bloom of civil life;
This temple of still more Divine,—of faith,
Sifted from errors, purified by flames,
Like gold, to take anew Truth's heavenly stamp,
And, rising both in lustre and in weight,
With her bless'd Master's unmaim'd image shine;
Why should she longer droop? why longer act
As an accomplice with the plots of Rome?
Why longer lend an edge to Bourbon's sword,
And give him leave, among his dastard troops,
To muster that strong succour, Albion's crimes,
Send his self-impotent ambition aid,
And crown the conquests of her fiercest foes?
Where are her foes most fatal? Blushing Truth,
“In her friends' vices,” with a sigh replies.
Empire on virtue's rock unshaken stands;
Flux as the billows, when in vice dissolved.
If Heaven reclaims us by the scourge of war,
What thanks are due to Paris and Madrid!
Would they a revolution? Aid their aim;
But be the revolution—in our hearts!
By your own valour won. This sacred isle,
Cut from the Continent, that world of slaves;
This temple built by Heaven's peculiar care,
In a recess from the contagious world,
With ocean pour'd around it for its guard;
67
That health, that strength, that bloom of civil life;
This temple of still more Divine,—of faith,
Sifted from errors, purified by flames,
Like gold, to take anew Truth's heavenly stamp,
And, rising both in lustre and in weight,
With her bless'd Master's unmaim'd image shine;
Why should she longer droop? why longer act
As an accomplice with the plots of Rome?
Why longer lend an edge to Bourbon's sword,
And give him leave, among his dastard troops,
To muster that strong succour, Albion's crimes,
Send his self-impotent ambition aid,
And crown the conquests of her fiercest foes?
Where are her foes most fatal? Blushing Truth,
“In her friends' vices,” with a sigh replies.
Empire on virtue's rock unshaken stands;
Flux as the billows, when in vice dissolved.
If Heaven reclaims us by the scourge of war,
What thanks are due to Paris and Madrid!
Would they a revolution? Aid their aim;
But be the revolution—in our hearts!
| The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes | |