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War follow'd for revenge, or to fupplant
The envied tenants of fome happier spot,
The chace for fuftenance, precarious truft!
His hard condition with fevere constraint
Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth
Of wisdom, proves a school in which he learns.
Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate;

Mean felf-attachment, and scarce aught befide..
Thus fare the fhiv'ring natives of the north,
And thus the rangers of the western world,
Where it advances far into the deep,

Towards th' Antarctic. Ev'n the favor'd ifles
So lately found, although the conftant fun
Cheer all their feafons with a grateful fiile,
Can boaft but little virtue; and inert

Through plenty, lofe in morals what they gain
In manners, victims of luxurious eafe.

These therefore I can pity, plac'd remote
From all that icience traces, art invents,

Or inspiration teaches; and inclosed

VOL. II.

D

In

In boundless oceans, never to be pass'd

By navigators uninformed as they,

Or plough'd perhaps by British bark again.

But far beyond the reft, and with most cause,

*

Thee, gentle favage! whom no love of thee
Or thine, but curiofity perhaps,

Ör else vain glory, prompted us to draw
Forth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here
With what fuperior skill we can abuse

The gifts of Providence, and fquander life.

The dream is paft; and thou haft found again

Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,

And homeftall thatch'd with leaves. But haft thou found Their former charms? And having feen our state,

Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp

Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports,
And heard our mufic; are thy fimple friends,

Thy fimple fare, and all thy plain delights,
As dear to thee as once? And have thy joys
Loft nothing by comparison with ours?

* Omia.

Rude

Rude as thou art (for we return'd thee rude

And ignorant, except of outward fhow)

I cannot think thee yet fo dull of heart
And spiritlefs, as never to regret

Sweets tafted here, and left as foon as known.
Methinks I fee thee ftraying on the beach,
And asking of the furge that bathes thy foot
If ever it has wash'd our distant shore.

I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears,
A patriot's for his country: thou art fad
At thought of her forlorn and abject state,
From which no power of thine can raise her upė
Thus fancy paints thee, and, though apt to err,
Perhaps errs little when the paints thee thus.
She tells me, too that duly ev'ry morn

Thou climb'ft the mountain top, with eager eye
Exploring far and wide the wat'ry wafte
For fight of fhip from England. Ev'ry fpeck
Seen in the dim horizon, turns thee pale
With conflict of contending hopes and fears.

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But comes at laft the dull and dusky eve,
And fends thee to thy cabbin, well-prepar'd
To dream all night of what the day denied.
Alas! expect it not. We found no bait
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good,
Difinterested good, is not our trade.
We travel far 'tis true, but not for nought;
And must be brib'd to compafs earth again
By other hopes and richer fruits than yours.

But though true worth and virtue, in the mild
And genial foil of cultivated life

Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there,
Yet not in cities oft. In proud and gay
And gain-devoted cities; thither flow,
As to a common and most noisome sewer,
The dregs and fæculence of ev'ry land.
In cities foul example on moft minds
Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds
In grofs and pamper'd cities floth and luft,

And

And wontonnefs and gluttonous excefs.

In cities, vice is hidden with most ease,

Or feen with least reproach; and virtue, taught
By frequent lapfe, can hope no triumph there
Beyond th' atchievement of fuccefsful flight.
I do confefs them nurf'ries of the arts,

In which they flourish most: where, in the beams
Of warm encouragement, and in the eye

Of public note, they reach their perfect fize.

Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd
The faireft capital of all the world,

By riot and incontinence the worst.

There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes

A lucid mirror, in which Nature fees

All her reflected features. Bacon there

Gives more than female beauty to a stone,

And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.

Nor does the chiffel occupy alone

The pow'rs of fculpture, but the style as much;
Each province of her art her equal care.

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