While, unchaftis'd, th' insulting Spaniard dares Infeft the trading flood, full of vain war, Despise my navies, and my merchants seize; As, trufting to falfe peace, they fearless roam The world of waters wild, made, by the toil, And liberal blood of glorious ages, mine Nor bursts my fleeping thunder on their head. Whence this unwonted patience? this weak doubt? 30 This tame befeeching of rejected peace?
This meek forbearance; this unnative fear, To generous Britons never known before? And fail'd my fleets for this; on Indian tides To float, unactive, with the veering winds? The mockery of war! while hot disease, And floth diftemper'd, swept off burning crouds, For action ardent; and amid the deep, Inglorious, funk them in a watery grave. There now they ly beneath the rolling flood, Far from their friends, and country, unaveng'd; And back the drooping war-fhip comes again, Difpirited, and thin; her fons afham'd
Thus idly to review their native fhore;
With not one glory fparkling in their eye, One triumph on their tougue. A paffenger, The violated merchant comes along;
That far-fought wealth, for which the noxious gale He drew, and feat beneath equator funs, By lawless force detain'd; a force that foon Would melt away, and every fpoil refign, Were once the British lion heard to roar. Whence is it that the proud Iberian thus, In their own well-afferted element,
Dares rouze to wrath the masters of the main ? Who told him that the big incumbent war
Would not, ere this, have roll'd his trembling ports In fmoaký ruin and his guilty ftorés, Won by the ravage of a butchered world, Yet unatton'd, funk in the fwallowing deep, Or led the glittering prize into the Thames ? There was a time (oh let my languid fons Refume their spirit at the rouzing thought!) When all the pride of Spain, in one dread fleet, Swell'd o'er the lab'ring furge; like a whole heaven Of clouds, wide-roll'd before the boundless breeze. 66 Gaily the fplendid armament along
Exultant plow'd, reflecting a red gleam,
As funk the fun, o'er all the flaming Vaft;.... Tall, gorgeous and elate; drink with the dream 70 Of eafy conqueft; while their bloated war, Stretch'd out from sky to fky, the gather'd force Of ages held in its capacious womb.
But foon, regardless of the cumbrous pomp, My dauntless Britons came, a gloomy few, With tempeft black, the goodly fcene deform'd, And laid their glory wafte. The bolts of fate Refiftless thunder'd thro' their yielding fides; Fierce o'er their beauty blaz'd the lurid flame; And feiz'd in horrid grafp, or shatter'd wide, Amid the mighty waters, deep they funk. Then too from every promontory chill,
Rank fen, and cavern where the wild wave works, Ifwept confed'rate winds, and fwell'd a storm. Round the glad ifle, foatch'd by the vengeful blaft, 85 The fcatter'd remnants drove; on the blind fhelve,* And pointed rock, that marks th' indented fhore, Relentless dash'd, where loud the northern main Howls thro' the fractur'd Caledonian ifles.
Such were the dawnings of my watʼry reign;
But fince how vast it grew, how absolute,
Even in those troubled times, when dreadful BLAKE Aw'd angry nations with the British name, Let every humbled ftate, let Europe say, Suftain'd, and balanc'd, by my naval arm. Ah what must those immortal spirits think Of your poor fhifts? Thofe, for their country's good, Who fac'd the blackest danger, knew no fear, No mean fubmiffion, but commanded peace. Ah how with indignation must they burn! (If aught, but joy, can touch aetherial breasts): With shame! with grief! to fee their feeble fons. Shrink from that empire o'er the conquer'd feas, For which their wisdom plan'd, their councils glow'd, And their veins bled thro' many a toiling age.
Oh firft of human bleflings! and fupreme! Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful thou! By whofe wide tie, the kindred fons of men, Like brothers live, in amity combin❜d, And unfufpicious faith; while honeft toil Gives every joy, and to thofe joys a right, Which idle, barbarous rapine but ufurps.
Pure is thy reign; when, unaccurs'd by blood, Nought, fave the sweetness of indulgent showers, Trickling diftills into the vernant glebe;
Instead of mangled carcafes, fad feen,
When the blythe sheaves ly scatter'd o'er the field; When only fhining fhares, the crooked knife, And hooks imprint the vegetable wound; When the land blushes with the rose alone,
The falling fruitage, and the bleeding vine.
Oh, Peace! thou fource and foul of focial life;
Beneath whofe calm inspiring influence,
Science his views enlarges, Art refines,
And fwelling Commerce opens all her ports; Blest be the man divine, who gives us thee! Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang,
Nor blow the giddy nations into rage;
Who fheathes the murderous blade; the deadly gun!
Into the well-pil'd armory returns ;
And every vigour from the work of death
To grateful industry converting, makes The country flourish, and. the city, smile, Unviolated, him the virgin fings; ~ And him the smiling mother to her train. Of him the shepherd, in the peaceful dale, Chaunts; and, the treasures of his labour fure, The husbandman of him, as at the plough, Or team, he toils. With him the failor foothes, Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave; 149 And the full city, warm, from street to street, And fhop to fhop, refponfive, rings of him.. Nor joys one land alone; his praise extends Far as the fun rolls the diffufive days. Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of peace, Till all the happy nations catch the fong.
What would not, Peace! the patriot bear for thee? What painful patience? What inceffant care?
What mix'd anxiety? What fleepless toil? Even from the rafh protected what reproach? For he thy value knows; thy friendship, he - To human nature: but the better thou, The richer of delight, fometimes the more Inevitable war, when ruffian force
Awakes the fury of an injur'd states
Even the good, patient man, whom reason rules; Rouz'd by bald infult, and injurious rage, With sharp and fudden check, th' astonish'd føns
Of violence confounds; firm as his caufe, His bolder heart; in awful juftice clad; His eyes effulging a peculiar fire:
And, as he charges thro' the proftrate war, His keen arm teaches faithless men, no more To dare the facred vengeance of the just.
And what, my thoughtless fons, fhould fire you more, Than when your well-earn'd empire of the deep 166. The least beginning injury receives?
What better caufe can call your lightning forth? Your thunder wake? your dearest life demand? What better cause, than when your country fees 170. The fly destruction at her vitals aim'd?
For oh it, much imports you, 'tis your all, To keep your trade entire, entire the force, And honour of your fleets; o'er that to watch Even with a hand fevere, and jealous eye. In intercourse be gentle, generous, juft, By Wisdom polish'd, and of manners fair; But on the fea be terrible, untam'd, Unconquerable still: let none escape,
Who fhall but aim to touch your glory there. Is there the man, into the lion's den
Who dares intrude, to fhatch his young away? And is a Briton feiz'd? and feiz'd beneath
The flumbering terrors of a British fleet?: Then ardent rife! oh great in vengeance rife; O'erturn the proud, teach rapine to refiere: And as you ride fublimely round the world, Make every vessel stoop, make every state. At once their welfare and their duty know. *This is your glory; this your wifdom; this The native power for which you were defign'd By fate, when fate defign'd the firmest state,
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