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Fearless who dares his inmost thouglits reveal, When thus to Heaven he makes his last appeai.
All-gracious God! whose goodness knows no bounds!
Whose power the ample universe surrounds !
In whose great balance, infinitely just,
Kings are but men, and men are only dust;
At thy tribunal low thy suppliant falls,
And here condemn'd, on thee for mercy calls !
Thou hear'st not, Lord! an hypocrite complain,
And sure with thee hypocrisy were vain ;
To thy all-piercing eye the heart lies bare,
Thou know'st my sins, and, knowing, still can'st
Though partial power its ministers may awe,
And murder here by specious forms of law;
The axe, which executes the harsh decree,
But wounds the flesh, to set the spirit free!
Well may the man a tyrant's frown despise,
Who, spurning earth, to Heaven for refuge flies ;
And on thy mercy, when his foes prevail,
Builds his firm trust that rock can never fail!
Hear then, Jehovah, hear thy servant's prayer !
Be England's welfare thy peculiar care!
Defend her laws, her worship chaste, and pure,,
And guard herrights while Heaven and earth endure!
O let not ever fell tyrannick sway
His blood stain'd standard on her shores display!
Nor fiery Zeal usurp the holy name,
Blinded with blood, and wrapt in rolls of flame!
In vain let Slavery shake her threatening chain,
And Persecution wave her torch in vain!
Arise, O Lord! and hear thy people's call!
Nor for one man let three great kingdoms fall!
O! that my blood may glut the barbarous rage
Of Freedom's foes, and England's ills assuage !
Grant but that prayer, I ask for no repeal,
A willing victim for my country's weal!
With rapturous joy the crimson stream shall flow,
And my heart leap to meet the friendly blow.
But should the fiend, though drench'd with human
Dire Bigotry, insatiate, thirst for more,
And, arm'd from Rome, seek this devoted land,
Death in her eye, and bondage in her hand
Blast her fell purpose ! blast her foul desires !
Break short her sword, and quench her horrid fires!
Raise up some champion, zealous to maintain
The sacred compact, by which monarchs reign!
Wise to foresee all danger from afar,
And brave to meet the thunders of the war I
Let pure Religion, not to forms confin’d,
And love of freedom fill his generous mind!
Warm let his breast with sparks celestial glow,
Benign to man, the tyrant's deadly foe!
While sinking nations rest upon his arm,
Do thou the great Deliverer shield from harm!
Inspire his councils ! aid bis righteous sword !
'Till Albion rings with Liberty restored!
Thence let her years in bright succession run,
And Freedom reign coxyal with the sun.
'Tis done, my Ca’ndish, Heaven has heard my
prayer; So speaks my heart, for all is rapture there.
To Belgia's coast advert thy ravish'd eyes,
That happy coast, whence all our hopes arise.
Behold the Prince, perhaps thy future king,
From whose green years maturest blessings spring;
Whose youthful arm, when all o'erwhelming Power
Ruthless march'd forth, his country to devour,
With firm-braced nerve repell’d the brutal force,
And stopp'd th' unwieldy giant in his course.
Great William, hail ! who sceptres could despise, And spurn a crown with unretorted eyes :
O! when will princes learn to copy thee,
And leave mankind, as Heaven ordain'd them, free!
Haste, mighty chief, our injur'd rights restore,
Quick spread thy sails for Albion's longing shore!
Haste, mighty chief, ere millions groan enslavid;
And add three realms to one already sav'd!
While Freedom lives, thy memory shall be dear,
And reap fresh honours each returning year;
Nations preserved shall yield immortal fame,
And endless ages bless thy glorious name!
Then shall my Ca'ndish, foremost in the field,
By justice arm’d, his sword conspicuous wield ;
While willing legions crowd around his car,
And rush impetuous to the righteous war.
On that great day be every chance defied,
And think thy Russel combats by thy side;
Nor, crown’d with victory, cease thy generous toil,
'Till firmest peace secure this happy isle..
Ne'er let thine honest, open heart believe
Professions specious, forged but to deceive;
Fear may extort them, when resources fail,
But O! reject the baseless, flattering tale.
Think not that promises, or oaths can bind,
With solemn ties, a Rome-devoted mind;
Which yields to all the holy juggler saith,
And deep imbibes the bloody, damning faith.
What though the bigot raise to Heaven his eyes
And call the Almighty witness from the skies !
Soon as the wish'd occasion he explores,
To plant the Roman cross on England's shores,
All, all will vanish, while his priests applaud,
And saint the perjurer for the pious fraud.
Far let him fly these freedom-breathing climes,
And seek proud Rome, the fosterer of his crimes ;
There let bim strive to mount the Papal chair,
And scatter empty thunders in the air,
Grimly preside in Superstition's school,
And curse those kingdoms he could never rule.
Here let me pause, and bid the world adieu,
While Heaven's bright mansions open to my view!
Yet still one care, one tender care remains;
My bounteous friend, relieve a father's pains !
Watch o'er my son, inform his waxen youtla
And mould his mind to virtue and to truth
Soon let him learn fair liberty to prize,
And envy him, who for his country dies;