 | The Genius of Britain |  |
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TO THE Right Hon. WILLIAM PITT, Esq
O thou, ordain'd at length by pitying FateTo save from ruin a declining State;
Adorn'd with all the scientific stores
Which bloom'd on Roman or Athenian shores;
At whose command our Passions rise or fall,
Obedient to the magic of thy call;
Whose breast (O never let the flame expire!)
Glows ardent with the Patriot's sacred fire;
Attend the Bard, who scorns the venal lays,
Which servile Flatt'ry spurious Greatness pays;
Whose British Spirit emulating thine,
Could ne'er burn incense at Corruption's shrine;
Who far from Courts maintains superior state,
And thinks that to be free is to be great.
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A Friend to all mankind, but Slave to none.
Above temptation, and unaw'd by pow'r,
Pleas'd with his present lot, nor wishes more,
Save that kind Heaven would give his warm desire,
What Kings can't grant, nor Courtiers oft require,
From each low view of selfish faction free,
To think, to speak, to live, O Pitt, like thee.
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THE GENIUS of BRITAIN.
AN IAMBIC ODE.
I
As late o'er Britain's chalky coastsThe Genius of the Island flew,
The venal swarm of foreign Hosts
Inglorious basking in his view,
Deep in his breast he felt the new disgrace,
And honest blushes warm'd his Godlike face.
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II
Quick flash'd the Light'ning of his SpearWhich blasted France on Cressy's field,
He wheel'd the blazing Sword in Air,
And on his Shoulders spread the Shield,
As when o'er Agincourt's blood-purpled lands,
Pale Terror stalk'd thro' all the Gallic bands.
III
Soon as he cast his eyes below,Deep heav'd the sympathetic sigh,
Sudden the Tears of anguish flow,
For sore he felt th'indignity;
Discordant Passions shook his heav'nly frame,
Now Horror's damp, now Indignation's flame.
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IV
Ah! what avails, he cry'd, the bloodShed by each Patriot band of yore,
When Freedom's unpaid Legions stood
Protectors of this sea-girt shore,
When ancient Wisdom deem'd each British Sword
From hostile Pow'r could guard it's valiant Lord.
V
What tho' the Danish Raven spreadAwhile his wings o'er English ground,
The Bird of prey funereal fled
When Alfred call'd his Peers around,
Whose Fleets triumphant riding on the flood,
Deep stain'd each chalky Cliff with Denmark's blood.
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VI
Alfred on natives could depend,And scorn'd a foreign force t'employ,
He thought, who dar'd not to defend
Were never worthy to enjoy;
The Realm's and Monarch's int'rest deem'd but one,
And arm'd his subjects to maintain their own.
VII
What tho' weak John's divided reignThe Gallic Legions tempted o'er,
When Henry's Barons join'd again,
Those feather'd Warriors left the Shore;
Learn, Britons, hence, you want no foreign Friends,
The Lion's safety on himself depends.
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VIII
Reflect on Edward's glorious name;On my fifth Henry's martial deeds;
Think on those Peers of deathless fame
Who met their King on Thames's meads,
When Sov'reign Might acknowledg'd Reason's plea,
That Heav'n created Man for Liberty.
IX
Tho' Rome's fell Star malignant shone,When good Eliza rul'd this State,
On English hearts she plac'd her throne,
And in their happiness her Fate,
While blacker than the Tempests of the North,
The Papal Tyrant sent his curses forth.
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X
Lo! where my Thames's waters glideAt great Augusta's regal feet,
Bearing on each returning tide
From distant realms a golden fleet,
Which homeward wafts the fruits of ev'ry Zone,
And makes the Wealth of all the World your own.
XI
Shall on his silver waves be borneOf armed Slaves a venal Crew?
Lo! the old God denotes his scorn,
And shudders at th'unusual view,
Down to his deepest cave retires to mourn,
And Tears indignant bathe his crystal Urn.
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XII
O! how can vassals born to bearThe galling weight of Slav'ry's chain,
A Patriot's noble ardor share,
Or Freedom's sacred cause maintain?
Britons, exert your own unconquer'd might,
A Freeman best defends a Freeman's right.
XIII
Look back on every deathless deedFor which your Sires recorded stand;
To battle, let your nobles lead
The sons of Toil, a hardy Band;
The Sword on each rough Peasant's thigh be worn,
And War's green wreaths the Shepherd's front adorn.
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XIV
But see! upon his utmost shoresAmerica's sad Genius lies,
Each wasted Province he deplores,
And casts on me his languid eyes,
Bless'd with Heav'n's fav'rite ordinance I fly,
To raise th'oppress'd and humble Tyranny.
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This said, the Vision westward fled,His wrinkled brow denouncing war;
The way fire-mantled Vengeance led,
And Justice drove his airy Car;
Behind firm-footed Peace her olive bore,
And Plenty's Horn pour'd blessings on the shore.
FINIS.
| The Genius of Britain | |