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"Let prostrate hearts, and awful fear,
And deep remorse, and sighs sincere,
For Britain's guilt the wrath divine appease;
A wrath more formidable far

Than angry Nature's wasteful war,
The whirl of tempests, and the roar of seas.

"From out the deep to thee we cry,
To thee, at Nature's helm on high!
Steer thou our conduct, dread Omnipotence!
To thee for succour we resort;
Thy favour is our only port;

Our only rock of safety thy defence.

"O Thou! to whom the lions roar,
And not unheard, thy boon implore!

Thy throne our bursts of cannon loud invoke:
Thou canst arrest the flying ball,

Or send it back, and bid it fall

On those from whose proud deck the thunder broke.

"Britain in vain extends her care

To climes remote for aids in war;

Still farther must it stretch to crush the foe:
There's one alliance, one alone,
Can crown her arms, or fix her throne,
And that alliance is not found below.

"Ally Supreme! we turn to thee;
We learn obedience from the sea;

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With seas and winds, henceforth, thy laws fulfil; there is nothing formidable in the true nat

"Tis thine our blood to freeze or warm, To rouse or hush the martial storm, And turn the tide of conquest at thy will.

""Tis thine to beam sublime renown, Or quench the glories of a crown;

it, or which (with utmost submission) I co the critics have hitherto entertained a fals Pindar is as natural as Anacreon, though familiar; as a fixed star is as much in the b of nature as a flower of the field, though I 'vious, and of greater dignity. This is not

'Tis thine to doom, 'tis thine from death to free, ceived notion of Pindar: I shall therefore so To turn aside his leveled dart,

:

Or pluck it from the bleeding heart :-
There, we cast anchor, we confide in thee.

"Thou! who hast taught the North to roar,
And streaming lightst nocturnal pour
Of frightful aspect! when proud foes invade,
Their blasted pride with dread to seize,
Did Britain's flags, as meteors, blaze,
And George depute to thunder in thy stead.

"The right alone is bold and strong,
Black hovering clouds appal the wrong
With dread of vengeance.-Nature's awful Sire!
Less than one moment shouldst thou frown,
Where is Puissance and Renown?
Thrones tremble, empires sii.k, or worlds expire.

"Let George the just chastise the vain :
Ihou! who dost curb the rebel main,
To mount the shore when boiling billows rave!

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port at large the hint which is now given.

Trade is a very noble subject in itself, mo per than any for an Englishman, and parti seasonable at this juncture.

We have more specimens of good writ every province than in the sublime, ou famous epic poems excepted. I was wil make an attempt where I had the fewest ri

If, on reading this Ode, any man has idea of the real interest, or possible glory country than before, or a stronger impressi it, or a warmer concern for it, I give up critic any further reputation.

We have many copies and translations t for originals. This Ode, I humbly conceiv original, though it professes imitation. N can be like Pindar, by imitating any of ticular works, any more than like Rapl copying the Cartoons. The genius and such great men must be collected from the and when thus we are possessed of it, we i ert its energy in subjects and designs of

Nothing is so unpindarical as following Pindar on | Its grand deposit faithful to restore!
the foot. Pindar is an original; and he must be so Salute the bark that ne'er shall hold
too who would be like Pindar in that which is his So rich a freight in gems or gold,
greatest praise. Nothing so unlike as a close copy
and a noble original.

As for length, Pindar has an unbroken ode of six hundred lines. Nothing is long or short in writing, but relatively to the demand of the subject, and the manner of treating it. A distich may be long, and a folio short. However, I have broken this Ode into strains, each of which may be considered as a separate ode, if you please. And if the variety and fulness of matter be considered, I am rather apprehensive of danger from brevity in this Ode, than from length. But lank writing is what I think ought most to be declined, if for nothing else, for our plenty of it.

The Ode is the most spirited kind of poetry, and the Pindaric is the most spirited kind of ode. This I speak at my own very great peril; but truth has an eternal title to our confession, though we are sure to suffer by it.

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FAST by the surge my limbs are spread,
The naval oak nods o'er my head,
The winds are loud, the waves tumultuous roll;
Ye winds! indulge your rage no more;
Ye sounding billows! cease to roar:
The god descends, and transports warm my soul.

The waves are hushed, the winds are spent ;
This kingdom, from the kingdoms rent,
I celebrate in song. Famed Isle! no less,
By Nature's favour, from mankind,
Than by the foaming sea disjoined;
Alone in bliss: an isle in happiness!

Though Fate and Time have damped my strains,
Though youth no longer fires my veins,

And loaded from both Indies would be poor.

My soul! to thee she spreads her sails!
Their bosoms fill with sacred gales;
With inspiration from the Godhead warm;
Now bound for an eternal clime,

send her down the tide of Time,
Snatched from oblivion, and secure from storm.
Or teach this flag like that to soar,
Which gods of old and heroes bore;
Bid her a British constellation rise-
The sea she scorns; and now shall bound
On lofty billows of sweet sound:

I am her pilot, and her port the skies!
Dare you to sing, ye tinkling Train!
Silence, ye Wretched! ye Profane!
Who shackle prose, and boast of absent gods;
Who murder thought, and numbers maim,
Who write Pindarics cold and lame,
And labour stiff Anacreontic odes.

Ye lawful sons of Genius, rise!
Of genuine title to the skies;

Ye founts of learning! and ye mints of Fame!
You who file off the mortal part

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How the King attended. A prospect of happiness, Indus try. A surprising instance of it in Old Rome. The mischief of sloth. What happiness is. Sloth its greatest enemy. Trade natural to Britain. Trade invoked. Described What the greatest human excellence. The praise of wealth. Its use, abuse, end. The variety of Nature. The final moral cause of it. The benefit of man's necessities. Britain's naval stores She makes all nature serviceable to her ends. Of reason. Its excellence. How we should form our estimate of things. Rea son's difficult task. Why the first glory her's. Her effects in

Though slow their streams in this cold climate run, Old Britain.
The royal eye dispels my cares,
Recalls the warmth of blooming years;
Returning George supplies the distant sun.

Away, my Soul! salute the Pine,*
That glads the heart of Caroline,

The vessel in which the King came over.

"OUR monarch comes! nor comes alone."
What shining forms surround his throne,
O sun! as planets thee. To my loud strain
See Peace, by Wisdom led, advance;
The Grace, the Muse, the Season, dance!
And Plenty spreads 'ehind her flowing train'

"Our m narch comes! nor comes alone!"

New glories kindle round his throne.
The visions rise! I triumph as I gaze.
By Pindar led, I turned of late
The volume dark, the folds of Fate,
And now am present to the future blaze.

By George and Jove it is decreed,
The mighthy Months in pomp proceed,
Fair daughters of the Sun!-O thou divine,
Blessed Industry! a smiling earth
From thee alone derives its birth:

By thee the ploughshare and its master shine.

From thee, mast, cable, anchor, oar,
From thee the cannon, and his roar!

See cherished by her sister, Peace,
She levies gain on every place,
Religion, habit, custom, tongue, and name!
Again she travels with the sun,
Again she draws the golden zone,
Round earth and main; bright zone of wealth.
fame.

Ten thousand active hands, that hung
In shameful sloth, with nerves unstrung,
The nation's languid load, defy the storms,
The sheets unfurl, and anchors weigh,
The long moored vessel wings to sca.
Worlds worlds salute, and peopled ocean swa

His sons, Po, Ganges, Danube, Nile,
Their sedgy foreheads lift and smile;

On oaks nursed, reared by thee, wealth, empire Their urns inverted, prodigally pour

grows.

O golden fruit! oak well might prove
The sacred tree, the tree of Jove;
All Jove can give the naval oak bestows.

What can not Industry complete?
When punic war first flamed, the great,
Bold, active, ardent Roman Fathers meet:
"Fell all your groves," a Flamen cries;*
As soon they fall, as soon they rise;
One moon a forest, and the next a fleet.

Is sloth indulgence? 'tis a toil;
Enervates man, and damns the soil;
Defeats creation, plunges in distress,
Cankers our being; all devours;
A full exertion of our powers!

Thence, and thence only, glows our happiness.

The stream may stagnate, yet be clear,
The sun suspend his swift career,
Yet healthy Nature feel her wonted force;
Ere man his active springs resigned,
Can rust in body and in mind,

Yet taste of bliss, of which he chokes the source.

Where, Industry! thy daughter fair?
Recall her to her native air:

Streams charged with wealth, and vow to bu
Britannia for their great ally,

With climes paid down. What can the go
more?

Cold Russia costly furs, from far,
Hot China sends her painted jar,
France generous wines to crown it, Arab s
With gales of incense swells our sails,
Nor distant Ind our merchant fails.
Her richest ore the ballast of our fleet.
Luxuriant isle! what tide that flows,
Or stream that glides, or wind that blows,
Or genial sun that shines, or shower that p
But flows, glides, breathes, shines, pours, fo
How every heart dilates to see

Each land's each season blending on thy s

All these one British harvest make?
The servant Ocean, for thy sake,

Both sinks and swells; his arms thy boson
And fondly give, in boundless dower,
To mighty George's growing power,
The wafted world into thy loaded lap.
Commerce brings riches, riches crown
Fair virtue with the first renown;
A large revenue, and a large expense,
When hearts for others' welfare glow,

Here was Trade born, here bred, here flourished And spend as free as gods bestow,

long;

And ever shall she flourish here:

What though she languished? 'twas but fear;
She's sound of heart; her constitution's strong.

Wake, sting her up. Trade! lean no more
On thy fixed anchor; push from shore;
Earth nes before thee, every climate court.
And see! she's roused; absolved from fears,
Her brow in cloudless azure rears,
Spreads all her sail, and opens every port.

⚫L Florus.

Gives the full bloom to mortal excellence.
Glow, then, my breast! abound, my store
This, and this boldly, I implore:
Their want and apathy let Stoics boast;
Passion and riches, good or ill,

As used by man demand our skill;
All blessings wound us when discretion's
Wealth, in the virtuous and the wise,
'Tis vice and folly to despise:

Let those in praise of poverty refine,
Whose heads or hearts pervert its use,
The narrow souled or the profuse!
The truly great find morals in the mine.

Happy the man! who, large of heart,
Has learnt the rare, illustrious art

Of being rich: stores starve us, or they cloy,
From gold if more than chymic skill
Extract not what is brighter still:

'Tis hard to gain, much harder to enjoy.
Plenty's a means, and joy her end:
Exalted minds their joys extend.

A Chandos shines when others' joys are done;
As lofty turrets, by their height,
When humbler scenes resign their light,
Retain the rays of the declining sun.
Pregnant with blessings, Britain! swear,
No sordid son of thine shall dare

Offend the donor of thy wealth and peace;
Who now his whole creation drains
To pour into thy tumid veins

That blood of nations, commerce and increase.

How various Nature! turgid grain

Here nodding, floats the golden plain;

In size confined, and humbly made,
What though we creep beneath the shade,
And seem as emmets on this point the ball?
Heaven lighted up the human soul,
Heaven bid its rays transpierce the whole,
And, giving godlike reason, gave us all.
Thou golden chain 'twixt God and men,
Blessed Reason! guide my life and pen;
All ills, like ghosts, fly trembling at thy light
Who thee obeys reigns over all;
Smiles, though the stars around him fall;
A God is nought but reason infinite.
The man of reason is a god,

Who scorns to stoop to Fortune's nod;
Sole agent he beneath the shining sphere.
Others are passive, are impelled,
Are frightened, flattered, sunk, or swelled,
As Accident is pleased to domineer.
Our hopes and fears are much to blame;
Shall monarchs awe? or crowns inflame?

There worms weave silken webs, here glowing From gross mistake our idle tumult springs:

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Heaven different growths to different lands im- Life, fame, friends, freedom, empire, all;

parts,

That all may stand in need of all,

And interest draw around the ball

A net to catch and join all human hearts.

Thus has the great Creator's pen,
His law supreme to mortal men,
In their necessities distinctly writ;
E'en appetite supplies the place
Of absent virtue, absent grace,

And human want performs for human wit.

Vast naval ensigns strowed around,
The wondering foreigner confound;
How stands the deep-awed continent aghast,
As her proud sceptred sons survey,
At every port, on every quay,

Huge mountains rise, of cable, anchor, mast!
The unwielded tun! the ponderous bale!
Each prince his own clime set to sale
Sees here, by subjects of a British king.
How earth's abridged! all nations range
A narrow-spot! our thronged Exchange,
And send the streams of plenty from their spring.

Nor earth alone, all nature bends
To aid in Britain's glorious ends.
Toils she in trade? or bleeds in honest wars?
Her keel cach yielding sea inthrals,
Each willing wind her canvass calls;

Her pilot into service lists the stars.

Peace, commerce, freedom, nobly fall,

To launch us on the flood of endless bliss.

How foreign these, though most in view!
Go, look your whole existence through,
Thence form your rule; thence fix your estimate;
For so the gods. But as the gains,
How great the toil? 'twill cost more pains
To vanquish folly than reduce a state.
Hence, Reason! the first palm is thine;
Old Britain learnt from thee to shine:
By thee, Trade's swarming throng, gay Freedom's
smile,

Armies, in war of fatal frown,

Of Peace the pride, Arts flowing down,
Enrich, exalt, defend, instruct our isle.

STRAIN II.

CONTENTS.

Arts from commerce. Why Britain should pursue it. What wealth includes. An historical digression, which kind of Tyre. The approach of her ruin. The cause of it. Her is most frequent in Pindar. The wealth and wonderful glory

crimes through all ranks and orders. Her miserable fall. The neighbouring kings' just reflection on it. An awful image of the Divine power and vengeance. From what Tyre ell, and how deep her calamity.

COMMERCE gives arts as well as gain: By commerce wafted o'er the main,

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They barbarous climes enlighten as they run;
Arts, the rich traffic of the soul!
May travel thus from pole to pole,

And gild the world with learning's brighter sun.
Commerce gives learning, virtue, gold!
Ply Commerce then ye Britons bold,
Inured to winds and seas! lest gods repent:
The gods that throned you in the wave,
And, as the trident's emblem, gave
A triple realm that awes the continent:

And awes with wealth: for wealth is power:

When Jove descends, a golden shower,

'Tis navies, armies, empire, all in one-
View, emulate, outshine old Tyre;
In scarlet robed, with gems on fire,

Her Merchants princes! every deck a throne!

She sat an empress! awed the flood!
Her stable column Ocean trod;

She called the nations, and she called the seas,
By both obeyed; the Syrian sings;
The Cyprian's art her viol strings;
Togarmah's steed along her valley neighs.

The fir of Senir makes her floor,
And Bashan's oak, transformed, her oar;
High Lebanon her mast; far Dedan warms
Her mantled host; Arabia feeds;
Her sail of purple Egypt spreads;
Arvad sends mariners; the Persian arms.

The world's last limit bounds her fame,
The Golden City was her name!
Those stars on earth, the topaz, onyx, blaze
Beneath her foot. Extent of coast,
And rich as Nile's let others boast,
Her's the far noblest harvest of the seas.

O merchant land! as Eden fair!
Ancient of empires! Nature's care!

The Queen of Trade is bought, once wise and jus How venal is her council's tongue: How riot, violence, and wrong, Turn gold to dross, her blossom into dust! To things inglorious, far beneath Those high-born souls they proudly breaths Her sordid nobles sink! her mighty bow! Is it for this the groves around Return the tabret's sprightly sound? Is it for this her great ones toss the brow? What burning feuds 'twixt brothers reign? To nuptials cold how glows the vein, Confounding kindred, and misleading right? The spurious lord it o'er the land, Bold Blasphemy dares make a stand, Assault the sky, and brandish all her might!

Tyre's artisan, sweet orator,

Her merchant, sage, big man of war,
Her judge, her prophet, nay, her hoary heads,
Whose brows with wisdom should be crowne
Her very priests in guilt abound:

Hence the world's cedar all her honoure sheds
What dearth of truth, what thirst of gold!
Chiefs warm in peace, in battle cold!
What youth unlettered! base ones lifted high
What public boasts! what private views!
What desert temples! crowded stews!
What women-practised but to roll an eye!

O! foul of heart, her fairest dames
Decline the sun's intruding beams,

To mad the midnight in their gloomy haunts
Alas! there is who sees them there;
There is who flatters not the fair,

When cymbals tinkle, and the virgin chants.
He sees, and thunders!-Now in vain
The courser paws and foams the rein,

The strength of Ocean! head of Plenty's springs! And chariots stream along the printed soil:

The pride of isles, in wars revered!

Mother of crafts! loved! courted! feared!
Pilot of kingdoms! and support of kings!

Great mart of nations!-but she fell:
Her pampered sons revolt! rebel!

Against his favourite isle loud roars the Main!
The tempest howls, her sculptured dome
Soon the wolf's refuge, dragon's home!
The land one altar! a whole people slain!

The destined Day puts on her frown;
The sable Hour is coming down;
She's on her march from yon almighty throne:
The sword and storm are in her hand;
She trumpets shril her dread command:
Dark be the light of earth, the boast unknown!

For, oh! her sins, as red as blood,
As crimson deep outcry the flood:

In vain her high presumptuous air,

In gorgeous vestments, rich and rare,
O'er her proud shoulder throws the poor man'

In robes or gems, her costly strain,
Green, scarlet, azure, shine in vain!

In vain their golden heads her turrets rear;
In vain high-flavoured, foreign fruits,
Sidonian oils, and Lydian lutes,

Glide o'er her tongue, and melt upon her ea
In vain wine flows in various streams,
With helm and spear each pillar gleams;
Damascus, vain! unfolds the glossy store,
The golden wedge from Ophir's coasts,
From Arab incense, vain, she boasts;
Vain are her gods, and vainly men adore.
Bell falls! the mighty Nebo bends!
The nations hiss! her glory ends!

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