And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd,
Leans, for all pleasure, on another's breast.
Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace.
And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace:
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boast one splendid banquet once a year:
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.

To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embosom'd in the deep, where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow;
Spreads its long arms, amidst the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore.
While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow-blossom’d vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,

The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation rescued from his reign.

Thus, while around, the wave-subjected soil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.
Hence, all the good from opulence that springs,
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,
Are here display'd. Their much-loved wealth

imparts Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts : But view them closer, craft and fraud appear; E’en liberty itself is barter'd here ! At gold's superior charms all freedom flies; The needy sell it, and the rich man buys: A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, Here wretches seek dishonourable graves; And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes, that slumber in the storm. Heavens ! how unlike their Belgick sires of

old! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; How much unlike the sons of Britain now!

Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring ; Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, And brighter streams than famed Hydaspis glide; There all around the gentlest breezes stray, There gentle musick melts on every spray; Creation's mildest charms are there combined ; Extremes are only in the master's mind; Stern o’er each bosom Reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd fresh from nature's hand; Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagined right, above control; While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, freedom, thine the blessings pictured here, Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear; Too bless'd, indeed, were such without alloy; But, foster'd e'en by freedom, ills annoy: That independence, Britons prize too high, Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie;


The self-dependent lordlings stand alone,
All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown ;
Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held,
Minds combat minds, repelling and repelld;
Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar,
Repress'd ambition struggles round her shore;
Till, overwrought, the general system feels
Its motions stop, or phrensy fire the wheels.

Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay,
As duty, love, and honour, fail to sway,
Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,
Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe.
Hence, all obedience bows to these alone,
And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown;
Till time may come, when, stripp'd of all her

charms, The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrote for

fame, One sink of level avarice shall lie; And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die.

Yet think not, thus when freedom's ills I state, I mean to flatter kings, or court the great:

Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire,
Far from my bosom drive the low desire !
And thou, fair freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's

rage, and tyrant's angry steel;
Thou transitory flower, alike undone
By proud contempt, or favour's fostering sun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,
I only would repress them, to secure:
For just experience tells, in every soil,
That those who think, must govern those who toil;
And all that freedom's highest aims can reach,
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each.
Hence, should one order disproportion'd grow,
Its double weight must ruin all below.

O then how blind to all that truth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires ! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast-approaching danger warms ; But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power, to stretch their own; When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom, when themselves are free; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law;


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