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No. His high metal under good controul,

Gives him Olympic speed, and fhoots him to the goal.

Let difcipline employ her wholesome arts,

Let magiftrates alert perform their parts,

Not skulk or put on a prudential mask,

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As if their duty were a defp'rate task;

Let active laws apply the needful curb
To guard the peace that riot would disturb,
And liberty preferv'd from wild excefs,
Shall raise no feuds for armies to fupprefs.
When tumult lately burft his prifon door,
And fet Plebeian thousands in a roar,
When he ufurp'd authority's juft place,

And dar'd to look his master in the face,
When the rude rabbles watch-word was-destroy,
And blazing London feem'd a fecond Troy,
Liberty blush'd and hung her drooping head,
Beheld their progrefs with the deepest dread,
Blush'd that effects like these she should produce,
Worse than the deeds of galley-flaves broke lose.

VOL. I.

C

She

She lofes in fuch ftorms her very name,

And fierce licentioufnefs fhould bear the blame.

Incomparable gem! thy worth untold,

Cheap, though blood-bought, and thrown away when

fold;

May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend

Betray thee, while profeffing to defend ;

Prize it ye ministers, ye monarchs spare,
Ye patriots guard it with a mifer's care.

A. Patriots, alas! the few that have been found
Where most they flourish, upon English ground,
The country's need have scantily supplied,

And the last left the fcene, when Chatham died.
B. Not fo-the virtue ftill adorns our age,
Though the chief actor died upon the stage.
In him, Demofthenes was heard again,
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain ;
She cloth'd him with authority and awe,
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law.

His fpeech, his form, his action full of

And all his country beaming in his face,

grace,

He

He ftood, as fome inimitable hand

Would strive to make a Paul or Tully ftand.
No fycophant or flave that dar'd oppofe

Her facred caufe, but trembled when he rofe;
And every venal stickler for the yoke,
Felt himself crufh'd at the first word he spoke.

Such men are rais'd to station and command,
When Providence means mercy to a land.

He speaks, and they appear; to him they owe
Skill to direct, and strength to strike the blow,
To manage with address, to feize with pow'r
The crifis of a dark decifive hour.

So Gideon earn'd a vict'ry not his own,
Subferviency his praife, and that alone.

Poor England! thou art a devoted deer,
Befet with ev'ry ill but that of fear.

The nations hunt; all mark thee for a prey,

They fwarm around thee, and thou standst at bay.
Undaunted still, though wearied and perplex'd,
Once Chatham fav'd thee, but who faves thee next?

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Alas! the tide of pleasure sweeps along
All that should be the boalt of British song.
'Tis not the wreath that once adorn'd thy brow,
The prize of happier times will ferve thee now.
Our ancestry, a gallant chriftian race,

Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace,

Confefs'd a God, they kneel'd before they fought,
And prais'd him in the victories he wrought.
Now from the duft of ancient days bring forth
Their fober zeal, integrity and worth;

Courage, ungrac'd by thefe, affronts the fkies,
Is but the fire without the facrifice.

The stream that feeds the well-fpring of the heart
Not more invigorate's life's noblest part,
Than virtue quickens with a warmth divine,

The pow'rs that fin has brought to a decline.
A. Th' ineftimable estimate of Brown,
Rofe like a paper-kite, and charm'd the town;
But measures plann'd and executed well,

Shifted the wind that rais'd it, and it fell.

He

He trod the very felf-fame ground you tread,
And victory refuted all he faid.

B. And yet his judgment was not fram'd amifs,
Its error, if it err'd, was merely this-
He thought the dying hour already come,
And a complete recov'ry ftruck him dumb.
But that effeminacy, folly, luft,

Enervate and enfeeble, and needs must,
And that a nation fhamefully debas'd,
Will be defpis'd and trampled on at last,
Unless sweet penitence her pow'rs renew,
Is truth, if history itself be true.

There is a time, and justice marks the date,
For long-forbearing clemency to wait;
That hour elaps'd, th' incurable revolt

Is punish'd and down comes the thunder-bolt.

If

mercy then put by the threat'ning blow, Muft fhe perform the fame kind office now? May fhe! and if offended heav'n be ftill

Acceffible and pray'r prevail, fhe will.

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