 | The laurel of liberty |  |
iii
TO THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY OF FRANCE THE TRUE AND ZEALOUS REPRESENTATIVES
OF A FREE PEOPLE, WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF ADMIRATION AND RESPECT THIS POEM IS DEDICATED.
7
THE LAUREL OF LIBERTY,
A POEM.
Genius, or Muse, whate'er thou art! whose thrill
Exalts the fancy, and inflames the will,
Bids o'er the heart sublime sensation roll,
And wakes extatic fervour in the soul;
Who lov'st to throw thy wild ungovern'd gaze
Where starry Night weaves thick her tissued rays,
And chasing envious shadow from the globe,
Leads the meek moon array'd in virgin robe,
To glance soft lustre from her chrystal eye,
And deck the heav'ns with pearly panoply:
Or, whether, random-cast, beside some stream,
Whose rippling current laves the falling beam,
Thou ponder'st, philosophical, alone,
Entranc'd by Sorrow's desultory groan,
While from dark dell the plumed minstrel's throat
Swells the long anguish of disast'rous note:
Or dost thou hasten to the lawny vale,
When yellow morning breathes her sweetest gale,
And drops on ev'ry flow'r luxuriant hues,
And bathes the landscape with celestial dews:
Whate'er thy pleasures are, or O! thy pains,
Attend thy suppliant and assist his strains;
With smiles benign thy ardent vot'ry hear,
Hang o'er his eye thy gossamery tear,
Wake the true throb, the living flame impart,
Usurp his mind, and seize upon his heart!
Not now he strays where other times are brought
By mem'ry's pow'rful magic to the thought,
With all that Folly plann'd, or Pride essay'd,
The earliest efforts men or monarchs made;
Nor calls the shad'wy trains again to birth,
Who trod, a moment trod, the realms of earth;
Valour's rough sons, and Beauty's daughters fair,
And those that bled, and those that triumph'd there,
Ambition's Robbers, Poets with their lay,
Alike th'important nothings of a day.
Not now, he fondly courts thee to renew
The lovesick song, some trem'lous maid to woo;
As when his youthful hand was wont to fling
A grateful incense to the op'ning Spring,
Who sweetly pacing from her blossom'd bow'r,
Unbound the streams, and shed the perfum'd show'r;
Who taught faint Echo in her cave serene,
With Passion's tend'rest tones to charm the green,
Wreathe round her airy harp the tim'rous joy,
And with delight her hundred tongues employ.
Nor yet, as once, for graceful Cowley's brow,
He blends the laurel and the myrtle bough,
Drinks her rich strain with extacy divine,
Dares the bold flight, and maddens on the line;
But a still nobler, grander theme inspires,
And Love is lost in Reason's purer fires;
Above the world's horizon, with rapt gaze,
He marks the dawn of truth's expanding rays,
Sees the young Light opprobrious shade disperse
And weaves with haste th'enthusiastic verse.
Or should past times recur,—tho' days of old
Their perish'd, proudest pageantry unfold,
Tho' Rome and Athens many a story tell,
How Afric trembled, and how Asia fell,
Tho' Europe's fruitless fury be display'd
When the fierce Hermit urg'd the dire Crusade,
And moody monarchs, mitred chiefs decreed,
Whole Nations, for the cross of Peace, should bleed:
Yet what were these? the varying errour shews
A web-work of despair, a mass of woes,
A scene of vile coercion, and thick gloom,
Mankind a culprit, and the earth a tomb;
While tyrant Prejudice with lordly stride
Stalk'd o'er the globe, and would be deified;
His demon race, to rule and rage, would bring,
And call each monster, Patriarch, Pope, or King,
O how unlike to Gallia at this hour,
Where Liberty is honour, Truth is pow'r,
Where Wisdom can assert her injur'd cause,
And Pride must yield to nature's honest laws;
Where talents, merit, virtue, genius rise,
And baffled, vain, factitious greatness flies:
While circling realms attentive pause to scan
An æra, pregnant with the hopes of Man!
Exalts the fancy, and inflames the will,
Bids o'er the heart sublime sensation roll,
And wakes extatic fervour in the soul;
Who lov'st to throw thy wild ungovern'd gaze
Where starry Night weaves thick her tissued rays,
And chasing envious shadow from the globe,
Leads the meek moon array'd in virgin robe,
To glance soft lustre from her chrystal eye,
And deck the heav'ns with pearly panoply:
Or, whether, random-cast, beside some stream,
Whose rippling current laves the falling beam,
Thou ponder'st, philosophical, alone,
Entranc'd by Sorrow's desultory groan,
While from dark dell the plumed minstrel's throat
Swells the long anguish of disast'rous note:
8
When yellow morning breathes her sweetest gale,
And drops on ev'ry flow'r luxuriant hues,
And bathes the landscape with celestial dews:
Whate'er thy pleasures are, or O! thy pains,
Attend thy suppliant and assist his strains;
With smiles benign thy ardent vot'ry hear,
Hang o'er his eye thy gossamery tear,
Wake the true throb, the living flame impart,
Usurp his mind, and seize upon his heart!
Not now he strays where other times are brought
By mem'ry's pow'rful magic to the thought,
With all that Folly plann'd, or Pride essay'd,
The earliest efforts men or monarchs made;
Nor calls the shad'wy trains again to birth,
Who trod, a moment trod, the realms of earth;
Valour's rough sons, and Beauty's daughters fair,
And those that bled, and those that triumph'd there,
Ambition's Robbers, Poets with their lay,
Alike th'important nothings of a day.
Not now, he fondly courts thee to renew
The lovesick song, some trem'lous maid to woo;
As when his youthful hand was wont to fling
A grateful incense to the op'ning Spring,
9
Unbound the streams, and shed the perfum'd show'r;
Who taught faint Echo in her cave serene,
With Passion's tend'rest tones to charm the green,
Wreathe round her airy harp the tim'rous joy,
And with delight her hundred tongues employ.
Nor yet, as once, for graceful Cowley's brow,
He blends the laurel and the myrtle bough,
Drinks her rich strain with extacy divine,
Dares the bold flight, and maddens on the line;
But a still nobler, grander theme inspires,
And Love is lost in Reason's purer fires;
Above the world's horizon, with rapt gaze,
He marks the dawn of truth's expanding rays,
Sees the young Light opprobrious shade disperse
And weaves with haste th'enthusiastic verse.
Or should past times recur,—tho' days of old
Their perish'd, proudest pageantry unfold,
Tho' Rome and Athens many a story tell,
How Afric trembled, and how Asia fell,
Tho' Europe's fruitless fury be display'd
When the fierce Hermit urg'd the dire Crusade,
And moody monarchs, mitred chiefs decreed,
Whole Nations, for the cross of Peace, should bleed:
10
A web-work of despair, a mass of woes,
A scene of vile coercion, and thick gloom,
Mankind a culprit, and the earth a tomb;
While tyrant Prejudice with lordly stride
Stalk'd o'er the globe, and would be deified;
His demon race, to rule and rage, would bring,
And call each monster, Patriarch, Pope, or King,
O how unlike to Gallia at this hour,
Where Liberty is honour, Truth is pow'r,
Where Wisdom can assert her injur'd cause,
And Pride must yield to nature's honest laws;
Where talents, merit, virtue, genius rise,
And baffled, vain, factitious greatness flies:
While circling realms attentive pause to scan
An æra, pregnant with the hopes of Man!
Ye great Philosophers! whose mental force
Has pow'r to check e'en Empire in its course;
By whose strong arms the letter'd lightnings hurl'd,
Have pierc'd the hov'ring shadow of the world,
To you all praise belongs; the truths you gave
Had nerve to operate, and strength to save;
Lo! at your voice what shouting millions run
T'adore the rising of a brighter sun,
Millions, condemn'd, by earliest errour taught,
To live without the privilege of thought,
To see their Sov'reigns and their Priests combine
To call oppression, Providence divine!
To see the Few a partial pleasure steal
From wrongs, the Many then, were forc'd to feel;
O wond'rous work of Reasoning! for hence,
Mankind shall bow to Wisdoms prevalence:
The drop of Wisdom sent from heav'n to earth,
Shall nourish bliss and virtue, into birth,
Till like a flood th'encreasing tide shall spread,
Refresh the vale, and cheer the mountain's head;
By due degrees o'er all the globe shall roll,
Revive the heart, and fertilize the soul,
Make pure the human character, and give
A joy, a purpose, and a sense to live:
Shall teach the world, in prejudice's scorn,
That born a Man is to be nobly born!
Has pow'r to check e'en Empire in its course;
By whose strong arms the letter'd lightnings hurl'd,
Have pierc'd the hov'ring shadow of the world,
To you all praise belongs; the truths you gave
Had nerve to operate, and strength to save;
11
T'adore the rising of a brighter sun,
Millions, condemn'd, by earliest errour taught,
To live without the privilege of thought,
To see their Sov'reigns and their Priests combine
To call oppression, Providence divine!
To see the Few a partial pleasure steal
From wrongs, the Many then, were forc'd to feel;
O wond'rous work of Reasoning! for hence,
Mankind shall bow to Wisdoms prevalence:
The drop of Wisdom sent from heav'n to earth,
Shall nourish bliss and virtue, into birth,
Till like a flood th'encreasing tide shall spread,
Refresh the vale, and cheer the mountain's head;
By due degrees o'er all the globe shall roll,
Revive the heart, and fertilize the soul,
Make pure the human character, and give
A joy, a purpose, and a sense to live:
Shall teach the world, in prejudice's scorn,
That born a Man is to be nobly born!
12
Yet think not that I view with jealous eyes,
The loftiest honours of the Good and Wise,
No, I can bless the rank, to which succeeds
The genuine worth of philanthropic Leeds;
Alike his feelings and his mind revere,
And hail at once a Poet and a Peer.
Or should the gallant Rawdon bring his claim
To Virtue's high hereditary fame,
I'd grant it with respect, nor fear by praise,
To draw imputed flatt'ry on my lays.
But when I see unmeaning Insects shine,
In phosphor blaze of genealogic line,
When midst the glitter, nothing I descry,
Save the bare boast of barren heraldry!
Then then my wonder, and my rage grow strong,
To think that Men have been their dupes so long.
The loftiest honours of the Good and Wise,
No, I can bless the rank, to which succeeds
The genuine worth of philanthropic Leeds;
Alike his feelings and his mind revere,
And hail at once a Poet and a Peer.
Or should the gallant Rawdon bring his claim
To Virtue's high hereditary fame,
I'd grant it with respect, nor fear by praise,
To draw imputed flatt'ry on my lays.
But when I see unmeaning Insects shine,
In phosphor blaze of genealogic line,
When midst the glitter, nothing I descry,
Save the bare boast of barren heraldry!
Then then my wonder, and my rage grow strong,
To think that Men have been their dupes so long.
O curs'd be Tyranny wheree'er he bide!
Or by the Ebro's, or the Danube's side,
Or where the Ganges speeds its worship'd wave,
Or Nile's swift streams the sandy desart lave;
In wild Siberia's waste, Italia's bow'rs,
'Mongst Abyssinian sweets, or Tempe's flow'rs;
Or should the desp'rate Demon dare to throw
On Britain's isle the thunderbolts of woe,
Still will I point his desolating reign,
Still will I curse him, tho' I curse in vain!
Still strive to shake the principles, that bind
In adamantine fetters, humankind.
Or by the Ebro's, or the Danube's side,
Or where the Ganges speeds its worship'd wave,
Or Nile's swift streams the sandy desart lave;
In wild Siberia's waste, Italia's bow'rs,
'Mongst Abyssinian sweets, or Tempe's flow'rs;
13
On Britain's isle the thunderbolts of woe,
Still will I point his desolating reign,
Still will I curse him, tho' I curse in vain!
Still strive to shake the principles, that bind
In adamantine fetters, humankind.
Well may my breast fierce Indignation tear,
To think what ills that kind is born to bear,
How for scarce-number'd centuries, uncheer'd,
Myriads have suffer'd wrong, and all have fear'd.
All but the base, the artful, and the proud,
Who drew their profit from the lightless crowd;
Poor Crowd! that bleeds as ev'ry Despot nods,
Or Priests breath forth the vengeance of their Gods.
Is this Existence, ought we thus to BE,
While none but pow'r-usurping slaves are free?
O! better were it, ever to be lost
In black Negation's sea, than reach the coast
Where naught appears but prospects dull, and dire,
The wrecks of reaons, and the spoils of ire,
Where 'midst life's hapless lot, the chance is this,
One in a hundred thousand tastes of bliss!
To think what ills that kind is born to bear,
How for scarce-number'd centuries, uncheer'd,
Myriads have suffer'd wrong, and all have fear'd.
All but the base, the artful, and the proud,
Who drew their profit from the lightless crowd;
Poor Crowd! that bleeds as ev'ry Despot nods,
Or Priests breath forth the vengeance of their Gods.
Is this Existence, ought we thus to BE,
While none but pow'r-usurping slaves are free?
O! better were it, ever to be lost
In black Negation's sea, than reach the coast
Where naught appears but prospects dull, and dire,
The wrecks of reaons, and the spoils of ire,
Where 'midst life's hapless lot, the chance is this,
One in a hundred thousand tastes of bliss!
14
Immortal Spirit! who direct'st the whole,
Eternal Nature's vivifying soul!
Intelligence! to all superiour, join'd
To boundless matter, the controuling mind!
Hast thou amidst thy works of wonder plac'd
This atom, Earth, with varying beauty grac'd,
With circling groves that deck the laughing hills,
With radiant rivers, and meand'ring rills,
Majestic mountains in rich verdure gay,
And summer seas where frolic breezes play;
Taught in full pride the burnish'd rose to blow
And fragrant lilies spread their leafy snow,
Taught in rapt choir the feather'd race to rise,
And pour their streamy warblings o'er the skies;
Sent, from its living source the Day's proud light.
And tend'rer beams to bless the pensive night;
And here shall helpless man in sorrow dwell
The victim of despair, here shall he tell
An endless tale of woe, how bound in chains,
He leads a life of warfare, and of pains;
The social compact, selfishly withstood,
While Reptiles feed and fatten on his blood?
Eternal Nature's vivifying soul!
Intelligence! to all superiour, join'd
To boundless matter, the controuling mind!
Hast thou amidst thy works of wonder plac'd
This atom, Earth, with varying beauty grac'd,
With circling groves that deck the laughing hills,
With radiant rivers, and meand'ring rills,
Majestic mountains in rich verdure gay,
And summer seas where frolic breezes play;
Taught in full pride the burnish'd rose to blow
And fragrant lilies spread their leafy snow,
Taught in rapt choir the feather'd race to rise,
And pour their streamy warblings o'er the skies;
Sent, from its living source the Day's proud light.
And tend'rer beams to bless the pensive night;
And here shall helpless man in sorrow dwell
The victim of despair, here shall he tell
An endless tale of woe, how bound in chains,
He leads a life of warfare, and of pains;
The social compact, selfishly withstood,
While Reptiles feed and fatten on his blood?
15
Too long alas! has desp'rate force prevail'd,
And ev'ry human privilege assail'd,
Too long has Myst'ry wove her spell profound
And false Opinion fix'd a gen'ral wound;
Fell Battle rages, tumults shake each land,
And wretches agonize as fools command.
Yes, wheresoe'er despotic fury goes,
Its steps are mark'd by rapine, and by woes,
Minds when subdued, their native good resign,
While round the heart the meaner passions twine;
Cold sordid Cautiousness each ardour quells,
And Ign'rance triumphs then, and Pride compels,
Then Friendship sickens, virtuous Love retires,
Hope disppears, and Truth itself expires.
And ev'ry human privilege assail'd,
Too long has Myst'ry wove her spell profound
And false Opinion fix'd a gen'ral wound;
Fell Battle rages, tumults shake each land,
And wretches agonize as fools command.
Yes, wheresoe'er despotic fury goes,
Its steps are mark'd by rapine, and by woes,
Minds when subdued, their native good resign,
While round the heart the meaner passions twine;
Cold sordid Cautiousness each ardour quells,
And Ign'rance triumphs then, and Pride compels,
Then Friendship sickens, virtuous Love retires,
Hope disppears, and Truth itself expires.
O sweet Firenze! what are all thy stores,
Thy Parian Venus which the world adores,
What are thy treasur'd gems thy tow'ry domes,
Whilst in thy halls the spectre Slav'ry roams?
Thy rustic palaces that charm the sight,
Thy Gallery's wealth, thy Boboli's delight,
Thy Pictures crowding on the raptur'd eye,
Which scarce our living Reynolds can outvie.
Thy melting Musick's undulating flow,
That o'er the nerves dilates delicious woe!
These but a poor, a transient comfort give,
To men, without volition doom'd to live.
Oft when the Star of Evening in the West
Sate like a Phœnix on her burning nest;
I've mark'd thy sighing youths, and damsels fair,
Tread the near meads, and whisper their despair,
Seek myrtled Fiesole's cool bow'rs, to weep,
And pour the bitter curse “not loud but deep.”
For hard was he that govern'd;—tho' his name
By Flatt'ry written on the rolls of fame,
Has sometimes lur'd an undiscerning praise,
To swell the trav'ler's page, the poet's lays;
Yet I have view'd him oft on Arno's side,
In false humility's dissembled pride,
Have seen him give each abject passion scope,
Scowl at each bliss, and wither ev'ry hope,
Cherish base treach'ry, and to fav'rites yield
That sword, which Justice ought alone to wield,
Force gen'rous social confidence to end,
And tear from each the solace of a friend.
O! since your iron age at length is o'er,
And your stern Duke shall vex your peace no more,
But ris'n to empire, leave the past'ral vale,
To vent his malice on a larger scale;
O may ye now! from such oppression free,
Revive to bliss, and native dignity,
May kinder Ferdinand your ills remove,
And gain your gratitude and win your love!
Thy Parian Venus which the world adores,
What are thy treasur'd gems thy tow'ry domes,
Whilst in thy halls the spectre Slav'ry roams?
Thy rustic palaces that charm the sight,
Thy Gallery's wealth, thy Boboli's delight,
Thy Pictures crowding on the raptur'd eye,
Which scarce our living Reynolds can outvie.
16
That o'er the nerves dilates delicious woe!
These but a poor, a transient comfort give,
To men, without volition doom'd to live.
Oft when the Star of Evening in the West
Sate like a Phœnix on her burning nest;
I've mark'd thy sighing youths, and damsels fair,
Tread the near meads, and whisper their despair,
Seek myrtled Fiesole's cool bow'rs, to weep,
And pour the bitter curse “not loud but deep.”
For hard was he that govern'd;—tho' his name
By Flatt'ry written on the rolls of fame,
Has sometimes lur'd an undiscerning praise,
To swell the trav'ler's page, the poet's lays;
Yet I have view'd him oft on Arno's side,
In false humility's dissembled pride,
Have seen him give each abject passion scope,
Scowl at each bliss, and wither ev'ry hope,
Cherish base treach'ry, and to fav'rites yield
That sword, which Justice ought alone to wield,
Force gen'rous social confidence to end,
And tear from each the solace of a friend.
O! since your iron age at length is o'er,
And your stern Duke shall vex your peace no more,
17
To vent his malice on a larger scale;
O may ye now! from such oppression free,
Revive to bliss, and native dignity,
May kinder Ferdinand your ills remove,
And gain your gratitude and win your love!
As late reclin'd in deep reflective mood,
Where Britain leans her bosom to the flood,
While Summer's tints begemm'd the beauteous scene,
And silky Ocean slept in glossiest green;
As by a lonely fountain's falling show'r,
I mourn'd the dire monopolies of pow'r,
A voice seraphic seiz'd my list'ning ear,
And half repress'd, and half impell'd the tear.
Wond'ring I gaze, when lo! methought, afar,
More bright than dauntless day's imperial star,
A godlike form advanc'd; for O! 'twas She,
Nature's first pride, Immortal Liberty!
Her zone unbound, her tresses unconfin'd,
Spoke undesigning negligence of mind,
True Rapture's negligence, as on she came,
Her cheek was glory, and her eye was flame;
Her floating robes light am'rous gales receive,
Her modest breast ten thousand virtues heave,
Shield had she none, but honour, and her sword
Was truth, and angels as she smil'd, ador'd.
Where Britain leans her bosom to the flood,
While Summer's tints begemm'd the beauteous scene,
And silky Ocean slept in glossiest green;
As by a lonely fountain's falling show'r,
I mourn'd the dire monopolies of pow'r,
A voice seraphic seiz'd my list'ning ear,
And half repress'd, and half impell'd the tear.
Wond'ring I gaze, when lo! methought, afar,
More bright than dauntless day's imperial star,
A godlike form advanc'd; for O! 'twas She,
Nature's first pride, Immortal Liberty!
Her zone unbound, her tresses unconfin'd,
Spoke undesigning negligence of mind,
True Rapture's negligence, as on she came,
Her cheek was glory, and her eye was flame;
18
Her modest breast ten thousand virtues heave,
Shield had she none, but honour, and her sword
Was truth, and angels as she smil'd, ador'd.
“O still,” she cried, “still be this island blest,
“Where erst my footsteps found consoling rest,
“Here, when the tyrants of each realm beside,
“Had check'd my ardour, and controul'd my pride,
“Had rudely rent the garlands from my hair,
“And twin'd in lieu the serpents of despair,
“To these white cliffs I came, a Pilgrim cold,
“By sorrow sunken, yet in sorrow, bold,
“But as my eager efforts reach'd the shore,
“Loud tempests howl, and madd'ning billows roar,
“Destructive Ign'rance urg'd her fatal flight,
“And quench'd with sablest show'rs the struggling light,
“While Biggotry sate grinning on his throne,
“Sooth'd by the flatt'ry of a nation's groan,
“And fabricating sighs, and planning tears,
“And binding reason in a chain of fears.
“Shock'd at the view, I sought the lonely dell,
“And rear'd 'mongst rocks my solitary cell,
“Thence, oft emerging at the break of dawn,
“I join'd the hunters on the scented lawn,
“Or fondly sporting in the rural glade,
“Reviv'd the village hind, and shepherd maid.
“Advanc'd to notice, hourly vot'ries throng,
“Swell the loud Pæan, and the choral song,
“To nobler scenes my steps the Barons lead,
“And pitch my victor tent at Runnymede;
“While regal John conceal'd his inward pain,
“And sign'd the charter of my future reign.
“Yet will I not each length'ning story trace
“Of all my varying struggles, and disgrace,
“Till that proud hour, when abdicating James
“Slunk in his pinnace down th'indignant Thames,
“And fled my fury;—rather let me boast,
“That then I fix'd my empire on this coast;
“Bade ev'ry heart with gen'rous ardour glow,
“Throb at all worth, and feel for ev'ry woe,
“Bade Valour to be just, Pow'r to be kind,
“And form'd a character, and made a mind:
“Bade fair opinion rule the gen'ral breast,
“And ev'ry man to live but for the rest.
“Where erst my footsteps found consoling rest,
“Here, when the tyrants of each realm beside,
“Had check'd my ardour, and controul'd my pride,
“Had rudely rent the garlands from my hair,
“And twin'd in lieu the serpents of despair,
“To these white cliffs I came, a Pilgrim cold,
“By sorrow sunken, yet in sorrow, bold,
“But as my eager efforts reach'd the shore,
“Loud tempests howl, and madd'ning billows roar,
“Destructive Ign'rance urg'd her fatal flight,
“And quench'd with sablest show'rs the struggling light,
“While Biggotry sate grinning on his throne,
“Sooth'd by the flatt'ry of a nation's groan,
“And fabricating sighs, and planning tears,
“And binding reason in a chain of fears.
“Shock'd at the view, I sought the lonely dell,
“And rear'd 'mongst rocks my solitary cell,
19
“I join'd the hunters on the scented lawn,
“Or fondly sporting in the rural glade,
“Reviv'd the village hind, and shepherd maid.
“Advanc'd to notice, hourly vot'ries throng,
“Swell the loud Pæan, and the choral song,
“To nobler scenes my steps the Barons lead,
“And pitch my victor tent at Runnymede;
“While regal John conceal'd his inward pain,
“And sign'd the charter of my future reign.
“Yet will I not each length'ning story trace
“Of all my varying struggles, and disgrace,
“Till that proud hour, when abdicating James
“Slunk in his pinnace down th'indignant Thames,
“And fled my fury;—rather let me boast,
“That then I fix'd my empire on this coast;
“Bade ev'ry heart with gen'rous ardour glow,
“Throb at all worth, and feel for ev'ry woe,
“Bade Valour to be just, Pow'r to be kind,
“And form'd a character, and made a mind:
“Bade fair opinion rule the gen'ral breast,
“And ev'ry man to live but for the rest.
20
“But O! should ever Albion's glory fade,
“And dread oppression re-expand her shade,
“Should titled arrogance, and priestly rage,
“Defile again her hist'ry's tarnish'd page,
“Should armies, loyal deem'd, forget to prove
“A soldier's laurel is his country's love;
“Should zeal of Parliament be empty words,
“And half the Commons represent the Lords,
“Or should the People's suffrages be sold,
“And base corruption rule the land with gold,
“Boroughs be bought at open settled price,
“And each distinction bear the badge of vice;
“Should stern Excise his fierce designs confess,
“And Persecution hover o'er the Press;
“Contending factions irritate the state,
“With selfish violence, and venal hate;
“While the grim giant Commerce should destroy
“The modest mansions of each genuine joy,
“With artificial lustre cheat the eyes,
“And vaunt his triumph as my influence flies.
“Then, shall my best beatitude conceal'd
“From her, be to new continents reveal'd;
“Then, other, wiser, happier realms shall know,
“That turgid tyranny's unnatural woe;
“That naught can rightly govern, but the Laws,
“Kings their effect, and Equity their cause;
“And that unless the gen'ral voice combin'd,
“Approve each law,—'tis Treason to Mankind:
“So shall my meliorating mercy run
“To light the world, a sublunary Sun;
“Till Education, Legislation join
“To energize the soul, and to refine,
“To give each man possession of his will,
“And quell by private virtue, public ill.”
“And dread oppression re-expand her shade,
“Should titled arrogance, and priestly rage,
“Defile again her hist'ry's tarnish'd page,
“Should armies, loyal deem'd, forget to prove
“A soldier's laurel is his country's love;
“Should zeal of Parliament be empty words,
“And half the Commons represent the Lords,
“Or should the People's suffrages be sold,
“And base corruption rule the land with gold,
“Boroughs be bought at open settled price,
“And each distinction bear the badge of vice;
“Should stern Excise his fierce designs confess,
“And Persecution hover o'er the Press;
“Contending factions irritate the state,
“With selfish violence, and venal hate;
“While the grim giant Commerce should destroy
“The modest mansions of each genuine joy,
“With artificial lustre cheat the eyes,
“And vaunt his triumph as my influence flies.
“Then, shall my best beatitude conceal'd
“From her, be to new continents reveal'd;
“Then, other, wiser, happier realms shall know,
“That turgid tyranny's unnatural woe;
21
“Kings their effect, and Equity their cause;
“And that unless the gen'ral voice combin'd,
“Approve each law,—'tis Treason to Mankind:
“So shall my meliorating mercy run
“To light the world, a sublunary Sun;
“Till Education, Legislation join
“To energize the soul, and to refine,
“To give each man possession of his will,
“And quell by private virtue, public ill.”
She spoke, and vanish'd;—as the vision past,
A groan of anguish murmur'd in the blast;
His gorgeous beams the Lord of lustre shrouds
In thickest darkness of obtrusive clouds;
With solemn swell the far Atlantic roars,
And dismal shouts the fiend of slav'ry pours.
He tells of islands in the western main,
Where human crowds exist but to complain,
Describes their pangs with frantic joy's excess,
And boasts their full perfection of distress.
O hapless race, ye gentle, and ye bold!
Whom ruffians gain'd in barter for their gold;
Torn from your musky bow'rs, your citron groves,
Your cooling cataracts, and your peaceful loves,
From calm reposings in the noontide shade,
And the soft dalliance of the moonlight glade;
How are ye forc'd an endless toil to urge,
Driv'n by reproach, and paid but with a scourge,
How are ye forc'd by boundless wrongs to sigh,
Live without hope, with execration die!
A groan of anguish murmur'd in the blast;
His gorgeous beams the Lord of lustre shrouds
In thickest darkness of obtrusive clouds;
With solemn swell the far Atlantic roars,
And dismal shouts the fiend of slav'ry pours.
He tells of islands in the western main,
Where human crowds exist but to complain,
Describes their pangs with frantic joy's excess,
And boasts their full perfection of distress.
O hapless race, ye gentle, and ye bold!
Whom ruffians gain'd in barter for their gold;
22
Your cooling cataracts, and your peaceful loves,
From calm reposings in the noontide shade,
And the soft dalliance of the moonlight glade;
How are ye forc'd an endless toil to urge,
Driv'n by reproach, and paid but with a scourge,
How are ye forc'd by boundless wrongs to sigh,
Live without hope, with execration die!
Yet ruthless Rulers! hearts of stone and steel!
Ye, who can never heed what others feel,
But swol'n with pow'r, and insolence of state,
Presume to call your little selves, the great!
Yet shall my song all feeble tho' it be,
Awake the latent spark of energy;
And shew, in Nature's universal scale,
That each with each must equally prevail,
That she no real difference decreed,
'Twixt those that dominate, and those that bleed,
But nobly scorns the poor presumptuous pleas,
Of such, as wish to live in wealth, and ease,
Who deem that wretches ought to weep, and toil,
For them to feast and gorge upon the spoil.
Yes, while keen sorrow rends my troubled soul,
And o'er my lids the scalding tumours roll,
My faithful song that with the suff'rance blends,
Shall call on Virtue's, and on Freedom's friends:
Point ev'ry grief that desolates the slave,
Unceasing labour, and an early grave;—
Or, dropping here the germe of truth sublime,
Shall leave th'event to mercy and to time.
Ye, who can never heed what others feel,
But swol'n with pow'r, and insolence of state,
Presume to call your little selves, the great!
Yet shall my song all feeble tho' it be,
Awake the latent spark of energy;
And shew, in Nature's universal scale,
That each with each must equally prevail,
That she no real difference decreed,
'Twixt those that dominate, and those that bleed,
But nobly scorns the poor presumptuous pleas,
Of such, as wish to live in wealth, and ease,
Who deem that wretches ought to weep, and toil,
For them to feast and gorge upon the spoil.
23
And o'er my lids the scalding tumours roll,
My faithful song that with the suff'rance blends,
Shall call on Virtue's, and on Freedom's friends:
Point ev'ry grief that desolates the slave,
Unceasing labour, and an early grave;—
Or, dropping here the germe of truth sublime,
Shall leave th'event to mercy and to time.
But now with transport of new thought I fly
To richer reas'ning, and a happier sky;
By Fascination's dear delirium led,
The Seine's brown banks with willing feet I tread,
Or where the lazy Loire, the Garonne gay,
Steal on, or Rhone pursues his eager way;
Still, sounds of joy upon my ear advance,
And Freedom wraps me in extatic trance.
Charm'd by each cadence, troub'lous whirlwinds sleep,
While infant breezes curl the smiling deep;
To Fancy's eye, all Nature breathes anew,
Paints her expansive lakes with brighter blue,
Fills heav'n with gaudier gold, or when retires
The Sun's vast orb in subjugated fires,
With lovelier lustre wakes the huntress queen
To show'r her shafts of silver o'er the scene,
With prouder speed her lucid crescent bear
Across the glitt'ring pavement of the air.
Why pours such beauty on my ravish'd sight,
Why fall so sweet the melodies of night,
Why burst these glories and these charms on me?
'Tis, that a Nation lives, a People's free—
Yes, Gaul is free! her dire coercive chain
Lies broke and scatter'd o'er the sportive plain,
While Reason's voice thro' all her glades is heard,
Gay as the carol of the morning bird,
That welcomes day-light home;—while Fury screams,
And darts her feeble ineffectual beams,
Like Air's nocturnal ghost, in paly shroud,
Glances with grisly glare from cloud to cloud,
And vainly beckons brooding tempests forth
From the bleak chambers of the boist'rous North.
To richer reas'ning, and a happier sky;
By Fascination's dear delirium led,
The Seine's brown banks with willing feet I tread,
Or where the lazy Loire, the Garonne gay,
Steal on, or Rhone pursues his eager way;
Still, sounds of joy upon my ear advance,
And Freedom wraps me in extatic trance.
Charm'd by each cadence, troub'lous whirlwinds sleep,
While infant breezes curl the smiling deep;
To Fancy's eye, all Nature breathes anew,
Paints her expansive lakes with brighter blue,
Fills heav'n with gaudier gold, or when retires
The Sun's vast orb in subjugated fires,
24
To show'r her shafts of silver o'er the scene,
With prouder speed her lucid crescent bear
Across the glitt'ring pavement of the air.
Why pours such beauty on my ravish'd sight,
Why fall so sweet the melodies of night,
Why burst these glories and these charms on me?
'Tis, that a Nation lives, a People's free—
Yes, Gaul is free! her dire coercive chain
Lies broke and scatter'd o'er the sportive plain,
While Reason's voice thro' all her glades is heard,
Gay as the carol of the morning bird,
That welcomes day-light home;—while Fury screams,
And darts her feeble ineffectual beams,
Like Air's nocturnal ghost, in paly shroud,
Glances with grisly glare from cloud to cloud,
And vainly beckons brooding tempests forth
From the bleak chambers of the boist'rous North.
Yet, haughty France, my verse could never claim,
For deeds that suit the slaughter-house of fame,
When leading on her myrmidons to fight,
She made it vanity to conquer right;
But Liberty I laud;—her I'd pursue;
Tho' fled to Persia, or thy plains Peru!
With her, in Ætna's sulph'rous caverns dwell,
Or where the Alpine desolations swell;
Close to the Pole, beneath th'Equator thrown,
If there she breath'd, 'twould be a temp'rate zone:
The gales would moderate, the heats subside,
Recumbent Eve rock the reposing tide,
Rich Night her diamond drapery expand,
And Nature's court be Freedom's happy land.
For deeds that suit the slaughter-house of fame,
When leading on her myrmidons to fight,
She made it vanity to conquer right;
25
Tho' fled to Persia, or thy plains Peru!
With her, in Ætna's sulph'rous caverns dwell,
Or where the Alpine desolations swell;
Close to the Pole, beneath th'Equator thrown,
If there she breath'd, 'twould be a temp'rate zone:
The gales would moderate, the heats subside,
Recumbent Eve rock the reposing tide,
Rich Night her diamond drapery expand,
And Nature's court be Freedom's happy land.
Compatriot Trav'lers o'er life's barren heath,
Who draw with me cotemporary breath,
For whom, affection's dewy vapours rise,
For whom, my bosom heaves foreboding sighs;
If slowly ling'ring in your heart's best veins,
One drop of public spirit yet remains,
If what your martyr'd fathers bought so dear,
Ye still at least in mem'ry can revere,
Rouse from your apathy, and boldly dare
Examine what you have been,—may be,—are!
But if abash'd, and stricken with dismay
Ye wish to chase each painful thought away,
That brings dejection,—turn to France and see
Four Million Men in arms, for Liberty!
For them what wreath's prepar'd? a fairer far,
Than grac'd proud Cæsar in triumphal car,
When madly vain, through the throng'd streets of Rome,
He led new slaves, and brought new slav'ry home.
For them, eternal Virtue's hand divine,
A chaplet wet with holy dews shall twine;
Cull ev'ry native, artless flow'r that blows,
The wilder woodbine, and the paler rose,
But shun th'accustom'd boughs which flaunting spread
Their leaves in mock'ry round each despot's head.
What is the crown the scepter and the ball?
Unreal state and wretched mumm'ry all;
Tyrants by these, false grandeur may employ,
But honour's ensign is a people's joy.
Who draw with me cotemporary breath,
For whom, affection's dewy vapours rise,
For whom, my bosom heaves foreboding sighs;
If slowly ling'ring in your heart's best veins,
One drop of public spirit yet remains,
If what your martyr'd fathers bought so dear,
Ye still at least in mem'ry can revere,
Rouse from your apathy, and boldly dare
Examine what you have been,—may be,—are!
26
Ye wish to chase each painful thought away,
That brings dejection,—turn to France and see
Four Million Men in arms, for Liberty!
For them what wreath's prepar'd? a fairer far,
Than grac'd proud Cæsar in triumphal car,
When madly vain, through the throng'd streets of Rome,
He led new slaves, and brought new slav'ry home.
For them, eternal Virtue's hand divine,
A chaplet wet with holy dews shall twine;
Cull ev'ry native, artless flow'r that blows,
The wilder woodbine, and the paler rose,
But shun th'accustom'd boughs which flaunting spread
Their leaves in mock'ry round each despot's head.
What is the crown the scepter and the ball?
Unreal state and wretched mumm'ry all;
Tyrants by these, false grandeur may employ,
But honour's ensign is a people's joy.
Turn then from scenes, if any such there be,
Where the enthrall'd, imagine they are free,
Where wealth, egregious wealth, alone is sought,
And riches shed a poverty of thought;
Where shameless Plund'rers overspread the land,
Assume a consequence, and buy command;
Where titles scatter'd on the servile train,
Strengthen with surest hold Oppression's chain;
Where Law and Justice cost so high a price,
They shew like vile venality of vice!
Where the poor Clergy live on heavenly hopes,
And slothful Bishops swell to pamper'd Popes;
Where gen'ral truths pass unexamin'd by,
But all is Precedent, and Policy;
Where Int'rest rages, Artifice grows bold,
And mean Subjection struts in chains of gold.
But to your eyes let alter'd Gaul display
A clear Horison, and a temp'rate ray;
For now her succ'ring Angel, veil'd for years,
Bursts thro' the mists of wretchedness, and fears;
O'er ev'ry hamlet waves a fost'ring wing,
And wafts the blessings of salubrious spring.
Tho' Aristocracy, and Priestly pow'r,
Too long her noblest treasures could devour,
Tho' royal Rapine wasted all her ore,
And left the pillag'd people to deplore,
Tho' every ill that despotism gave,
Had sunk them low, it sunk them but to save!
Rous'd by despair, they learnt, that men can be
Lords of themselves, and if they chuse be free;
For by their efforts is this axiom known,
That when they have the will, the strength's their own.
That Right returns where Union is begun—
That Ninety-nine can ever conquer One!
And lo! exulting o'er his cultur'd meads,
With loftier crest the honest lab'rer treads,
Or near the covert of his cottage stands,
To trace th'appropriate produce of his hands;
Or when return'd, the day's employment done,
And his bluff children to embrace him run,
Paternal transport's keen emotions rush
To view their Being now, without a blush.
No delegated wretch from him shall draw
The last-left mite, and call the robb'ry, law;
Nor proud Versailles in costly plunder drest,
Relentless batten on a land distrest:
But men, the friends of men, at length combine,
And in one equal honest senate join,
Support the innocent, the weak secure,
And from the fangs of wealth protect the poor.
Behold! how swift thro' ev'ry vital part,
Shoots the fine flame that animates the heart;
The teeming earth a fuller Ceres bears,
To humblest haunts Prosperity repairs,
Foul Ign'rance fades, and Depredation flies,
While Freedom lifts her standard to the skies.
Where the enthrall'd, imagine they are free,
Where wealth, egregious wealth, alone is sought,
And riches shed a poverty of thought;
27
Assume a consequence, and buy command;
Where titles scatter'd on the servile train,
Strengthen with surest hold Oppression's chain;
Where Law and Justice cost so high a price,
They shew like vile venality of vice!
Where the poor Clergy live on heavenly hopes,
And slothful Bishops swell to pamper'd Popes;
Where gen'ral truths pass unexamin'd by,
But all is Precedent, and Policy;
Where Int'rest rages, Artifice grows bold,
And mean Subjection struts in chains of gold.
But to your eyes let alter'd Gaul display
A clear Horison, and a temp'rate ray;
For now her succ'ring Angel, veil'd for years,
Bursts thro' the mists of wretchedness, and fears;
O'er ev'ry hamlet waves a fost'ring wing,
And wafts the blessings of salubrious spring.
Tho' Aristocracy, and Priestly pow'r,
Too long her noblest treasures could devour,
Tho' royal Rapine wasted all her ore,
And left the pillag'd people to deplore,
Tho' every ill that despotism gave,
Had sunk them low, it sunk them but to save!
28
Lords of themselves, and if they chuse be free;
For by their efforts is this axiom known,
That when they have the will, the strength's their own.
That Right returns where Union is begun—
That Ninety-nine can ever conquer One!
And lo! exulting o'er his cultur'd meads,
With loftier crest the honest lab'rer treads,
Or near the covert of his cottage stands,
To trace th'appropriate produce of his hands;
Or when return'd, the day's employment done,
And his bluff children to embrace him run,
Paternal transport's keen emotions rush
To view their Being now, without a blush.
No delegated wretch from him shall draw
The last-left mite, and call the robb'ry, law;
Nor proud Versailles in costly plunder drest,
Relentless batten on a land distrest:
But men, the friends of men, at length combine,
And in one equal honest senate join,
Support the innocent, the weak secure,
And from the fangs of wealth protect the poor.
Behold! how swift thro' ev'ry vital part,
Shoots the fine flame that animates the heart;
29
To humblest haunts Prosperity repairs,
Foul Ign'rance fades, and Depredation flies,
While Freedom lifts her standard to the skies.
But sudden was the onset; France amaz'd,
Saw the vast fabrick fall her Kings had rais'd,
And ev'ry engine of despotic pow'r,
The work of ages shatter'd in an hour,
Yet then she triumph'd, from her blazing eye,
Wild raptures stream, immortal glories fly,
With joy's sweet tears beholds her soldier train,
The shame of civil homicide disdain,
And nobly spurn, assassin-like for hire,
T'obey the mandate of each wretch's ire;
Sees those dread troops, by gloomy tyrants plann'd
The scourge, become the safety of the land;
While the whole nation joins the common cause
Of rightful Liberty's impartial laws.
Then rush'd th'indignant populace, inspir'd
With patriot ardour, godlike fury fir'd,
Around th'infernal fell Bastile they throng,
And lay in dust that monument of wrong;
They force its tripled walls, its grated caves,
And call forth living spectres from their graves:
Ah! what a scene of horror, with'ring there,
Were Men, by Despots robb'd of light and air,
In fetid dungeons left to rot alone,
Their cause unpleaded, and their crime unknown,
Doom'd to hold converse with thick damps, and tell
Their flinty beds, they found this earth a hell.
From vig'rous youth to feeblest age confin'd,
And stripp'd of all possession but the mind,
'Twas theirs, to execrate their endless chain,
And lose each future hope in present pain,
'Twas theirs to hourly curse the ruler's rod,
And doubt at last the mercy of their God.
Such rending suff'rance, such enormous woe,
Mortals by mortals have been taught to know;
For Pow'r uncheck'd, with sanguinary pride
Lives for himself, and damns the world beside;
From conscious infamy, and flatt'ring fear,
Conceives and hopes,—to hate is to revere.—
Delights in anguish, on destruction feeds,
And triumphs most when val'rous Virtue bleeds.
Slow is at first the progress that he makes,
While day by day some pilfer'd right he takes,
Then arm'd with smuggled acts, and clauses shrewd,
A fiercer frown dismays the multitude;
Till in full force he rushes to the sight,
Quells hope's last quiv'ring blaze, and all is night.
Saw the vast fabrick fall her Kings had rais'd,
And ev'ry engine of despotic pow'r,
The work of ages shatter'd in an hour,
Yet then she triumph'd, from her blazing eye,
Wild raptures stream, immortal glories fly,
With joy's sweet tears beholds her soldier train,
The shame of civil homicide disdain,
And nobly spurn, assassin-like for hire,
T'obey the mandate of each wretch's ire;
Sees those dread troops, by gloomy tyrants plann'd
The scourge, become the safety of the land;
While the whole nation joins the common cause
Of rightful Liberty's impartial laws.
30
With patriot ardour, godlike fury fir'd,
Around th'infernal fell Bastile they throng,
And lay in dust that monument of wrong;
They force its tripled walls, its grated caves,
And call forth living spectres from their graves:
Ah! what a scene of horror, with'ring there,
Were Men, by Despots robb'd of light and air,
In fetid dungeons left to rot alone,
Their cause unpleaded, and their crime unknown,
Doom'd to hold converse with thick damps, and tell
Their flinty beds, they found this earth a hell.
From vig'rous youth to feeblest age confin'd,
And stripp'd of all possession but the mind,
'Twas theirs, to execrate their endless chain,
And lose each future hope in present pain,
'Twas theirs to hourly curse the ruler's rod,
And doubt at last the mercy of their God.
Such rending suff'rance, such enormous woe,
Mortals by mortals have been taught to know;
For Pow'r uncheck'd, with sanguinary pride
Lives for himself, and damns the world beside;
From conscious infamy, and flatt'ring fear,
Conceives and hopes,—to hate is to revere.—
31
And triumphs most when val'rous Virtue bleeds.
Slow is at first the progress that he makes,
While day by day some pilfer'd right he takes,
Then arm'd with smuggled acts, and clauses shrewd,
A fiercer frown dismays the multitude;
Till in full force he rushes to the sight,
Quells hope's last quiv'ring blaze, and all is night.
But come kind Mem'ry! now thy influence shed,
Hide from my heart its prophecies of dread,
Indulge fond fancy, and recal the hour,
When o'er the ruins of that tort'ring tow'r,
I saw gay youths, and festive maids advance,
And read with rapt'rous tears, “Ici l'on danse.”
'Twas at the closing of the day renown'd,
When public choice a monarch more than crown'd;
When to the holy altar of the state,
The nation throng'd, and pour'd their vow elate,
A vow, which plotting miscreants shall defy,
“To live for Freedom, or for Freedom die!”
Heav'n's! as I wander'd 'mongst the scatter'd stone,
Whose pile was late the bulwark of a throne,
And o'er Imagination's gloomy glass,
Despair's mute sons like Banquo's visions pass,
Scourg'd—mask'd in iron—famish'd, a sad train!
While bleeding Pity wept in ev'ry vein;
How sweetly burst the merry tabor's sound!
What swift enchantment deck'd the fairy ground!
Methought Amphion's fabled potent shell,
Had sudden breath'd its counteracting spell;
Had dash'd the dome from its Tartarean base,
To spread a fair Elysium in its place.
Then blissful blessings round my senses hung,
A true devotion touch'd my trembling tongue!
And could'st thou wonder, lib'ral Burke! to see
Revenge lead on the steps of Liberty,
Could men yet smarting with the tyrant's stroke,
Forgive the tribe that bow'd them to the yoke,
Forget, how oft the pittance, from their hands
Was torn, by each relentless Lord's commands;
Condemn'd almost to starve, where plenty reign'd,
And those were criminals who e'er complain'd?
O could'st thou wonder when th'explosion came,
Which burst the o'ercharg'd culverin of shame,
That ev'ry suff'rer starting to new life,
Against his proud oppressor bared the knife,
That palaces were rifled, villains bled,
And many a murd'rous traitor lost his head?
Sure manly Moralist! a soul like thine,
Where all the nobler qualities combine,
Where Virtue rises from its purest source,
And Learning gives true genius double force;
Sure such a soul must own, the lantern's cord,
Compar'd to dungeons, cannon, and the sword,
Was but a trifling ill, the People's rage
A moment rous'd, a moment could assuage,
But vengeful Ministers no pity feel,
They bring their direst chain, their racking wheel,
Doom their sad victims length'ning pangs to share,
And even think it mercy when they spare!
Hide from my heart its prophecies of dread,
Indulge fond fancy, and recal the hour,
When o'er the ruins of that tort'ring tow'r,
I saw gay youths, and festive maids advance,
And read with rapt'rous tears, “Ici l'on danse.”
'Twas at the closing of the day renown'd,
When public choice a monarch more than crown'd;
When to the holy altar of the state,
The nation throng'd, and pour'd their vow elate,
A vow, which plotting miscreants shall defy,
“To live for Freedom, or for Freedom die!”
Heav'n's! as I wander'd 'mongst the scatter'd stone,
Whose pile was late the bulwark of a throne,
32
Despair's mute sons like Banquo's visions pass,
Scourg'd—mask'd in iron—famish'd, a sad train!
While bleeding Pity wept in ev'ry vein;
How sweetly burst the merry tabor's sound!
What swift enchantment deck'd the fairy ground!
Methought Amphion's fabled potent shell,
Had sudden breath'd its counteracting spell;
Had dash'd the dome from its Tartarean base,
To spread a fair Elysium in its place.
Then blissful blessings round my senses hung,
A true devotion touch'd my trembling tongue!
And could'st thou wonder, lib'ral Burke! to see
Revenge lead on the steps of Liberty,
Could men yet smarting with the tyrant's stroke,
Forgive the tribe that bow'd them to the yoke,
Forget, how oft the pittance, from their hands
Was torn, by each relentless Lord's commands;
Condemn'd almost to starve, where plenty reign'd,
And those were criminals who e'er complain'd?
O could'st thou wonder when th'explosion came,
Which burst the o'ercharg'd culverin of shame,
That ev'ry suff'rer starting to new life,
Against his proud oppressor bared the knife,
33
And many a murd'rous traitor lost his head?
Sure manly Moralist! a soul like thine,
Where all the nobler qualities combine,
Where Virtue rises from its purest source,
And Learning gives true genius double force;
Sure such a soul must own, the lantern's cord,
Compar'd to dungeons, cannon, and the sword,
Was but a trifling ill, the People's rage
A moment rous'd, a moment could assuage,
But vengeful Ministers no pity feel,
They bring their direst chain, their racking wheel,
Doom their sad victims length'ning pangs to share,
And even think it mercy when they spare!
What tho', too rapid now may seem to be
The unexampled tide of Theory,
Too wild the impulse, and too vast the range,
To settle strong security from change;
Not long shall France by struggling tumults rent,
Smart with the wounds of secret discontent;
Awhile, perhaps, may trouble and distress
Defile her lilies, and her pride depress;
Surrounding Neros herds of hirelings lead
To force the friends of humankind to bleed;
Yet 'gainst the gen'ral good, so just, so plain,
Brinsleys might write, and monarchs rage in vain;
Not Erskine's eloquence could here avail,
And e'en young Ammon's armies all would fail.—
But soon shall Truth with Industry's best wealth,
Give to the social body moral health;
Till hearts expanding with encreasing store,
Gain from each gain, a gen'rous feeling more:
Till modest merit be by all confest,
And those be valued most who are the best.
While there unknown to the whole world beside,
Shall public int'rest fix on honour's pride!
The unexampled tide of Theory,
Too wild the impulse, and too vast the range,
To settle strong security from change;
Not long shall France by struggling tumults rent,
Smart with the wounds of secret discontent;
34
Defile her lilies, and her pride depress;
Surrounding Neros herds of hirelings lead
To force the friends of humankind to bleed;
Yet 'gainst the gen'ral good, so just, so plain,
Brinsleys might write, and monarchs rage in vain;
Not Erskine's eloquence could here avail,
And e'en young Ammon's armies all would fail.—
But soon shall Truth with Industry's best wealth,
Give to the social body moral health;
Till hearts expanding with encreasing store,
Gain from each gain, a gen'rous feeling more:
Till modest merit be by all confest,
And those be valued most who are the best.
While there unknown to the whole world beside,
Shall public int'rest fix on honour's pride!
See, see, already, o'er her mild domain,
The softer charities begin to reign,
No virgins now secluded from the arms
Of sighing love, shall mourn their useless charms,
Doze out their years by slumb'rous grief opprest,
Or strain cold relicts to the burning breast.
No ghastly monks their horrid sabbaths hold,
That sense may sink, and reason be controul'd;
But new exertion wakes to fair desire,
And owns what nature's noblest laws require.
With polish'd manners polish'd minds agree,
For pure politeness is philanthropy!
Her sons, unshackled, a new warmth impart,
And learn to give the welcome of the heart.
Thus men long tost upon the wintry deep,
Thro' days of toil, and nights unknown to sleep,
Their shatter'd helm the sport of ev'ry wave,
And all their prospect but a wat'ry grave;
If chance, in spite of the rude tempests roar,
Their patient strugglings bring the bark to shore,
Spent tho' they be;—with gratulating voice
They share each other's safety, and rejoice,
While former anguish in affection ends,
And even strangers are embrac'd as friends.
The softer charities begin to reign,
No virgins now secluded from the arms
Of sighing love, shall mourn their useless charms,
Doze out their years by slumb'rous grief opprest,
Or strain cold relicts to the burning breast.
35
That sense may sink, and reason be controul'd;
But new exertion wakes to fair desire,
And owns what nature's noblest laws require.
With polish'd manners polish'd minds agree,
For pure politeness is philanthropy!
Her sons, unshackled, a new warmth impart,
And learn to give the welcome of the heart.
Thus men long tost upon the wintry deep,
Thro' days of toil, and nights unknown to sleep,
Their shatter'd helm the sport of ev'ry wave,
And all their prospect but a wat'ry grave;
If chance, in spite of the rude tempests roar,
Their patient strugglings bring the bark to shore,
Spent tho' they be;—with gratulating voice
They share each other's safety, and rejoice,
While former anguish in affection ends,
And even strangers are embrac'd as friends.
O! as I view that gallant race restor'd,
And bless the lot of those I once deplor'd,
Exult with them o'er hell's worst hydra dead,
Their Wolseys banish'd, and their ------ fled;
As deeds unparallel'd allure my sight,
And my breast heaves with emulous delight;
Alas! destructive of the rising joy,
Still Europe bleeds, and maniacs still destroy,
There bold Gustavus leads his troops along,
And gives by valour dignity to wrong,
There Turkish navies their moon'd ensigns spread,
Where the dark Euxine lifts his horrid head,
While mingling murder, in imperial form,
Promotes the warfare, and “directs the storm,”
Sends legions forth in terrible array,
To tear societies best rights away,
And dooms, for what? a shadow, and a breath,
Unnumber'd reas'ning hecatombs to death!
And thus whole nations to one grave are hurl'd,
By slaught'ring Chiefs—the Hangmen of the World.
And bless the lot of those I once deplor'd,
Exult with them o'er hell's worst hydra dead,
Their Wolseys banish'd, and their ------ fled;
36
And my breast heaves with emulous delight;
Alas! destructive of the rising joy,
Still Europe bleeds, and maniacs still destroy,
There bold Gustavus leads his troops along,
And gives by valour dignity to wrong,
There Turkish navies their moon'd ensigns spread,
Where the dark Euxine lifts his horrid head,
While mingling murder, in imperial form,
Promotes the warfare, and “directs the storm,”
Sends legions forth in terrible array,
To tear societies best rights away,
And dooms, for what? a shadow, and a breath,
Unnumber'd reas'ning hecatombs to death!
And thus whole nations to one grave are hurl'd,
By slaught'ring Chiefs—the Hangmen of the World.
Oppress'd by such reflection, let me haste
To the calm solace of the rural waste,
Where Quiet dwells, or near th'unruffled lake,
List the shrill woodlark whistling from the brake,
Or as the western Sun declines, behold
The distant mountains wreathe their heads with gold;
Till gauzy Zephyrs flutt'ring o'er the plain,
On Twilight's bosom drop their filmy rain;
Three undisturb'd, in unambitious state,
Awhile I'll ruminate on time, and fate,
And the most probable event of things,
The Rise of Reason, and the Fall of Kings;
Or when lone Silence in her dusky chair,
Drives slow her phantom coursers thro' the air,
Or hies for shelter to the secret glade,
Scar'd by the noise the wailing owl has made;
There will I court an instant of repose,
And in a Nation's bliss forget my woes,
Forget my Country's wrongs, its palsied fame,
Its boasted Liberty, perhaps, a Name!
Forget that Falshood, Persecution, Hate,
Pursue my steps, and hourly griefs create,
That fell Suspicion's injury has shewn
It thought my heart vindictive as its own.
But I will there each institution trace,
Which tends to mental mis'ry, and disgrace,
How first Design the imp of Errour rear'd,
By Princes cherish'd, and by Priests rever'd,
Convinc'd, that naught but what is Right
can bless;
The test of moral truth is, Happiness!
To the calm solace of the rural waste,
Where Quiet dwells, or near th'unruffled lake,
List the shrill woodlark whistling from the brake,
Or as the western Sun declines, behold
The distant mountains wreathe their heads with gold;
37
On Twilight's bosom drop their filmy rain;
Three undisturb'd, in unambitious state,
Awhile I'll ruminate on time, and fate,
And the most probable event of things,
The Rise of Reason, and the Fall of Kings;
Or when lone Silence in her dusky chair,
Drives slow her phantom coursers thro' the air,
Or hies for shelter to the secret glade,
Scar'd by the noise the wailing owl has made;
There will I court an instant of repose,
And in a Nation's bliss forget my woes,
Forget my Country's wrongs, its palsied fame,
Its boasted Liberty, perhaps, a Name!
Forget that Falshood, Persecution, Hate,
Pursue my steps, and hourly griefs create,
That fell Suspicion's injury has shewn
It thought my heart vindictive as its own.
But I will there each institution trace,
Which tends to mental mis'ry, and disgrace,
How first Design the imp of Errour rear'd,
By Princes cherish'd, and by Priests rever'd,
38
The test of moral truth is, Happiness!
Come then meek Hope! as by this brook I stray,
While pale Orion sheds a sober ray,
While gleamy meteors sweep the silent swamp,
And the still glow-worm light its tiny lamp,
Or sounding in the blast, some Hamlet-bell,
Proclaims the rescued peasant's glad farewell!
Come balmy Hope! thy fond delusions cease,
But be the faithful harbinger of peace!
Fan with thy soothing wing my fev'rish breast,
And calm this troubled intellect to rest;
Say, that ere long War's shameful rage shall end,
Monarchs be men, and ev'ry man a friend,
Say, that Benignity's soft gale shall guide
The human vessel o'er life's transient tide;
Subdue each turbid passion of the soul,
Till parts convey perfection to the whole;
Till to the gen'ral pulse one joy be giv'n,
And Earth become a temporary Heav'n.
While pale Orion sheds a sober ray,
While gleamy meteors sweep the silent swamp,
And the still glow-worm light its tiny lamp,
Or sounding in the blast, some Hamlet-bell,
Proclaims the rescued peasant's glad farewell!
Come balmy Hope! thy fond delusions cease,
But be the faithful harbinger of peace!
Fan with thy soothing wing my fev'rish breast,
And calm this troubled intellect to rest;
Say, that ere long War's shameful rage shall end,
Monarchs be men, and ev'ry man a friend,
Say, that Benignity's soft gale shall guide
The human vessel o'er life's transient tide;
Subdue each turbid passion of the soul,
Till parts convey perfection to the whole;
Till to the gen'ral pulse one joy be giv'n,
And Earth become a temporary Heav'n.
FINIS.
Though the enemies to the French Revolution despise the idea of the Rights of Men, yet they are very strenuous to support the Rights of Nobility; it is therefore evident that they suppose some men to have Rights, though not all! The few are entitled to every thing, the many alas! to nothing!
Cari sunt Parentes, cari Liberi, Propinqui, Familiares; sed omnes omnium caritates patria una complectitur; [illeg.], quis bonus dubitet mortem oppetere, si ei sit profuturus? Cic. de Off. L. 1.
Let not my readers suppose that I have any particular partiality towards France as a nation—No, she is only respectable in my eyes as exerting herself for the general future advantage of the whole human race.—“ubi Libertas ibi Patria.”
From this example of the defection of the French troops, standing Armies will henceforth become objects of equal jealousy and alarm to the Sovereign as to the Subject, and Monarchs and Ministers will be very cautious in future how they call upon the military to support injustice or to enforce oppression.
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