Hence all obedience bows to these alone,

And talent finks, and merit weeps, unknown;

Till time may come, when, ftript of all her charms,
The land of scholars, and the qurse of arms,
Where noble stems transmit the patriot claim,
And monarchs toil, and poets pant for fame,
One fink of level avarice shall lie,

And fcholars, foldiers, 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
foul afpire,
Far from my bofom drive the low defire!

And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry steel;
Thou tranfitory flower, alike undone

By cold contempt, or favour's foítering fun;
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure!
I only would reprefs them, to secure:

For just experience tells, in every foil,

That those who think must govern those that toil;
And all that freedom's highest aims can reach,
Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each-
Much on the low; the reft, as rank fupplies,
Should in columnar diminution rife:
While, fhould one order difproportion'd grow,
It's 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 foul, nor apt to rife in arms,
Except when faft approaching danger warms:
But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,
Contracting regal power, to ftretch 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;
The wealth of climes, where favage nations roam,
Pillag'd from flaves, to purchase slaves at home;
Fear, pity, juftice, indignation, start,

Tear off referve, and bare my swelling heart!
Till half a patriot, half a coward grown,
I fly, from petty tyrants-to the Throne.

Yes, Brother, curfe with me, that baleful hour,
When first ambition ftruck at regal power;
And thus polluting honour, in it's fource,
Gave wealth to fway the mind with double force!
Have we not feen, round BRITAIN's peopled fhore
Her useful fons exchang'd for useless ore?
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste;
Like flaring tapers, bright'ning as they waste!
Seen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Leal itern Depopulation in her train;

And

And over fields, where scatter'd hamlets rofè,
In barren, folitary pomp, repose?

Have we not seen, at Pleasure's lordly call,
The fmiling, long-frequented village, fall?
Beheld the duteous son, the fire decay'd,
The modest matron, and the blushing maid,
Forc'd from their homes-a melancholy train !-
To traverse climes beyond the western main;
Where wild Ofwego spreads her swamps around,
And Niagara ftuns with thund'ring found?

Ev'n now, perhaps, as there fome pilgrim strays
Through tangled forests, and through dang'rous ways,
Where beasts with man divided empire claim,
And the brown Indian takes a deadly aim:
There, while above the giddy tempeft flies,
And all around distressful yells arise;
The penfive exile, bending with his woe,
To stop too fearful, and too faint to go,
Cafts a fond look where ENGLAND's glories fhine,
And bids his bosom sympathize with mine.

Vain, very vain, my weary search, to find
That bliss which only centres in the mind!
Why have I ftray'd from pleasure and repofe,
To feek a good each government bestows?
In every government, though terrors reign,
Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain,
B 2

How

How fmall, of all that human hearts endure,

That part, which laws, or kings, can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves, in every place confign'd,

Our own felicity we make or find;

With fecret courfe, which no loud ftorms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy!
The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel,

LUKE's iron crown, and DAMIEN's bed of steel,
To men, remote from power but rarely known,
Leave Reason, Faith, and Conscience, all our own.

TH2

THE

DESERTED VILLAGE.

B9