For which their wisdom plann'd, their councils glow'd, And their veins bled through many a toiling age! 105 Oh, first of human bleffings! and fupreme! Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful thou! By whofe wide tie, the kindred fons of men Like brothers live, in amity combin'd, And unfufpicious faith; while honest toil Gives every joy, and to those joys a right, Which idle, barbarous rapine but ufurps. Pure is thy reign; when, unaccurs'd by blood, Nought, fave the sweetness of indulgent showers, Trickling diftils into the vernant glebe;
Inftead of mangled carcaffes, fad-feen,
When the blithe fheaves lie fcatter'd o'er the field; When only fhining fhares, the crooked knife, And hooks imprint the vegetable wound; When the land blushes with the rofe alone, The falling fruitage and the bleeding vine. Oh, Peace! thou fource, and foul of focial life; Beneath whofe calm inspiring influence,
Science his views enlarges, Art refines,
And fwelling Commerce opens all her ports;
Bleft be the man divine, who gives us thee! Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang, Nor blow the giddy nations into rage;
Who fheaths the murderous blade; the deadly gun Into the well-pil'd armory returns;
And, every vigour from the work of death, To grateful industry converting, makes
The country flourish, and the city smile.
Unviolated, him the virgin fings :
And him the fmiling mother to her train. Of him the fhepherd, in the peaceful dale, Chaunts; and, the treasures of his labour fure, The husbandman of him, as at the plough,
he toils. With him the failor fooths, Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave; 140 And the full city, warm, from ftreet to ftreet, And shop to fhop, refponfive, fings of him; Nor joys one land alone; his praise extends Far as the fun rolls the diffufive day; Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of peace,
Till all the happy nations catch the fong.
What would not, Peace! the patriot bear for thee?
What painful patience? what inceffant care?
What mixt anxiety? what fleepless toil!
Ev'n from the rash protected what reproach ?
For he thy value knows; thy friendship he To human nature: but the better thou, The richer of delight, fometimes the more Inevitable war; when ruffian force Awakes the fury of an injur'd state.
Ev'n the good patient man, whom reafon rules, Rouz'd by bold infult, and injurious rage, With fharp and fudden check, th' aftonish'd fons Of violence confounds; firm as his caufe
His bolder heart; in aweful justice clad;
His eyes effulging a peculiar fire;
And, as he charges through the proftrate war, His keen arm teaches faithlefs men, no more
To dare the facred vengeance of the just.
And what, my thoughtless fons, should fire you more, Than when your well-earn'd empire of the deep The least beginning injury receives !
What better cause can call your lightning forth? Your thunder wake? your deareft life demand? What better caufe, than when your country fees The fly destruction at her vitals aim'd? For, oh, it much imports you, 'tis your all, To keep your trade intire, intire the force, And honour of your fleets: o'er that to watch, Ev'n with a hand fevere, and jealous eye. In intercourse be gentle, generous, just, By wisdom polish'd, and of manners fair; But on the fea be terrible, untam'd, Unconquerable ftill; let none escape,
Who fhall but aim to touch your glory there. Is there the man, into the lion's den
Who dares intrude, to fnatch his young away? And is a Briton feiz'd♪ and feiz'd beneath The flumbering terrors of a British fleet? Then ardent rife! Oh, great in vengeance rife! O'erturn the proud, teach rapine to restore: And as you ride fublimely round the world, Make every veffel ftoop, make every state At once their welfare and their duty know. This is your glory; this your wifdom; this The native power for which you were defign'd By Fate, when Fate defign'd the firmest state, That e'er was feated on the fubject fea;
A ftate, alone, where Liberty should live, In thefe late times, this evening of mankind, When Athens, Rome, and Carthage are no more, The world almoft in flavish floth diffolv'd.
For this, these rocks around your coaft were thrown, For this, your oaks, peculiar harden'd, shoot Strong into sturdy growth; for this, your hearts Swell with a fullen courage, growing still As danger grows; and strength, and toil for this Are liberal pour'd o'er all the fervent land. Then cherish this, this unexpenfive power, Undangerous to the public, ever prompt, By lavish Nature thrust into your hand : And, unincumber'd with the bulk immenfe Of conqueft, whence huge empires rofe, and fell Self-crush'd, extend your reign from shore to fhore, Wheree'er the wind your high behests can blow; And fix it deep on this eternal base.
For fhould the fliding fabrick once give way, Soon flacken'd quite, and paft recovery broke, It gathers ruin as it rolls along,
Steep rushing down to that devouring gulph, Where many a mighty empire buried lies. And should the big redundant flood of trade, In which ten thousand thousand labours join Their feveral currents, till the boundless tide Rolls in a radiant deluge o'er the land; Should this bright stream, the leaft inflected, point Its course another way, o'er other lands The various treasure would refiftiefs pour,
Ne'er to be won again; its ancient tract Left a vile channel, defolate, and dead, With all around a miserable waste.
Not Egypt, were, her better heaven, the Nile Turn'd in the pride of flow; when o'er his rocks, And roaring cataracts, beyond the reach
Of dizzy vifion pil'd, in one wide flash
An Ethiopian deluge foams amain
(Whence wondering fable trac'd him from the sky); Ev'n not that prime of earth, where harvests crowd On untill'd harvests, all the teeming year,
If of the fat o'erflowing culture robb’d,
Were then a more uncomfortable wild,
Steril, and void; than, of her trade depriv❜d, Britons, your boasted isle: her princes funk; Her high-built honour moulder'd to the duft; Unnerv'd her force; her fpirit vanish'd quite; With rapid wing her riches fled away; Her unfrequented ports alone the fign
Of what she was; her merchants scatter'd wide; Her hollow fhops fhut up; and in her streets,
Her fields, woods, markets, villages, and roads, 245 The chearful voice of labour heard no more.
Oh, let not then wafte Luxury impair
That manly foul of toil, which ftrings your nerves,
And your own proper happiness creates !
Oh, let not the foft, penetrating plague
Creep on the free-born mind; and working there,
With the fharp tooth of many a new-form'd want, Endless, and idle all, eat out the heart
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