And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast May sit, like falcons cowering on the nest; But all the gentler morals, such as play Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way, To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire? Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze; And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestick lore, So bless'd a life these thoughtless realms display; Thus idly busy rolls their world away· Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, Here passes current; paid from hand to hand, They please, are pleased; they give, to get esteem, But while this softer art their bliss supplies, It gives their follies also room to rise; For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought, And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd, To men of other minds my fancy flies, While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, 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, Are here display'd. Their much loved wealth imparts But view them closer, craft and fraud appear; E'en liberty itself is barter'd here! At gold's superiour charms all freedom flies; A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, 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; |