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Arabia's scorching fands he cross'd *,
Where blafted Nature pants fupine,
Conductor of her tribes aduft,

To Freedom's adamantine fhrine;

And many a Tartar hord forlorn, aghast †,

He fnatch'd from under fell Oppreffion's wing; And taught, amidst the dreary waste,

Th' all-chearing hymns of Liberty to fing. He virtue finds, like precious ore,

Diffus'd thro' ev'ry baser mould;

E'en now he ftands on Calvis' rocky shore,
And turns the drofs of Corfica to gold ‡.
He, guardian genius, taught my youth
Pomp's tinfel❜d liv'ry to defpife:

My lips by him chaftis'd to truth

Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies.


Those sculptur'd halls my feet fhall never tread
Where varnish'd vice and vanity combin'd,
To dazzle and feduce their banners spread,
And forge vile fhackles for the free-born mind:
Where Infolence his wrinkled front uprears,

And all the flowers of fpurious fancy blow,
And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,

Full often wreath'd around the mifcreant's brow:

*Arabia's fcorching fands, &c.] The Arabs, rather than refign their independency, have often abandoned their habitations, and encountered all the horrors of the defart.

And many a Tartar bord, &c.] From the tyranny of Jenghis-Khan, Timur-Bec, and other eaftern conquerors, whole tribes of Tartars were used to fly into the remoteft waftes of Cathay, where no army would follow them.

And turns the drofs of Corfica, &c.] The noble ftand made by Pafchal, Paoli and his affociates against the ufurpation of the French king, must endear them to all the fons of liberty and independence.


Wherever dimpling Falfhood, pert and vain,
Prefents her cup of ftate profeffion's froth,
And pale Disease, with all his blasted train,
Torments the fons of Gluttony and Sloth.


In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
With either India's glittering spoils opprefs'd:
So moves the fumpter-mule, in harness'd pride,
That bears the treasure which he cannot taste.
For him let venal bards difgrace the bay,

And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling ftring;
Her fenfual fnares let faithless Pleasure lay,
And all her gingling bells fantastick Folly ring:
Difquiet, doubt, and dread shall intervene ;
And Nature, ftill to all her feelings juft,
In vengeance hang a damp on every scene,
Shook from the baleful pinions of Difguft.


Nature I'll court in her fequefter'd haunts,

By mountain, meadow, ftreamlet, grove, or cell,
Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chaunts,
And Health and Peace, and Contemplation, dwell.
There Study fhall with Solitude recline,

And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-fwains;
And Toil and Temperance fedately twine

The flender chord that fluttering life fuftains;
And fearless Poverty shall guard the door,
And 'Taste unspoil'd the frugal table spread;
And Industry supply the humble store,

And Sleep unbrib'd his dews refreshing shed:
White-mantled Innocence, etherial sprite,
Shall chafe far off the goblins of the night,
And Independence o'er the day prefide,
Propitious power! my patron and my pride!



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Thou that glad'st my lonesome hours
With many a wildly warbled fong,
When Melancholy round me lours,
And drives her fullen ftorms along;
When fell Adversity prepares
To lead her delegated train,

Pale Sickness, Want, Remorfe, and Pain,
With all her host of carking cares;

The fiends ordain'd to tame the human foul,
And give the humbled heart to Sympathy's controul!

Sweet foother of my mifery, fay,

Why doft thou clap thy joyous wing?
Why doft thou pour that artlefs lay?
How canft thou, little prifoner, fing?
Hast thou not cause to grieve
That man, unpitying man! has rent
From thee the boon which Nature meant

Thou should't, as well as he, receive?

The power to woo thy partner in the grove; To build where instinct points; where chance directs, to rove.

Perchance, unconfcious of thy fate,

And to the woes of bondage blind,
Thou never long'ft to join thy mate,
Nor wifheft to be unconfin'd;

Then how relentless he,

And fit for every foul offence,

Who could bereave fuch innocence

Of life's beft bleffing, Liberty!

Who lur'd thee, guileful, to his treacherous fnare,

To live a tuneful flave, and diffipate his care!


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Above thy mafter thou art blefs'd!
Art thou not, free?Yes; calm Content,
With olive fceptre, fways thy breast:

Then deign with me to live;

The falcon with infatiate maw,


With hooked bill and griping claw,
Shall ne'er thy deftiny contrive;

And every tabby foe fhall mew in vain,
While penfively demure the hears thy melting ftrain.

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The limpid fount, and temp'rate meal :
And when the blooming spring

In chequer'd liv'ry robes the fields,
The fairest flow'rets Nature yields

To thee officious will I bring;

A garland rich thy dwelling fhall entwine,
And Flora's freshest gifts, thrice happy bird! be thine.

From drear Oblivion's gloomy cave

The powerful Mufe fhall wreft thy name,

And bid thee live beyond the grave;

This meed the knows thy merits claim :

She knows thy liberal heart

Is ever ready to dispense

The tide of bland Benevolence,

And Melody's foft aid impart ;

Is ready ftill to prompt the magick lay,

Which hushes all our griefs, and charms our pains away.


Erewhile, when brooding o'er my foul
Frown'd the black demons of Despair,
Did not thy voice that power controul,
And oft fupprefs the rifing tear?

If Fortune fhould be kind,
If e'er with affluence I'm bless'd,

I'll often feek fome friend, diftrefs'd;
And when the weeping wretch. I find,

Then, tuneful moralift, I'll copy thee,
And folacé all his woes with focial fympathy!

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H, ftay!-Thy wand oblivious o'er my eyes T

Yet wave, mild power of fleep!My prayer is vain!

She flies; the partial nurfe of Nature flies,

With all her foothing, vifionary train!

Then let me forth, and near yon flowering thorn

Tafte heaven's pure breath; while, rob'd in amber veft, Fresh from her watery couch, the youthful morn Steals on the flumbers of the drowzy east.

Lo! at her prefence, the ftrong arm of toil,

With glittering fickle mows the prime of May; While yon poor hirelings, for the mine's rude foil, Leave to their fleeping babes their cots of clay,

With sturdy ftep, they chearly whiftle o'er
The path that flings across the reedy plain,

To the deep caverns of that yawning moor,
Whofe fhaggy breaft abhors the golden grain.


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