A gaily-checker'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, industry! rough pow'r!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of ev'ry gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind
Implanted, and, profusely pour'd around,
Materials infinite; but idle all.
Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast,
Slept the lethargic pow'rs; corruption still,
Voracious, swallow'd what the lib'ral hand
Of bounty scatter'd o'er the savage year:
And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix'd
With beasts of prey; or for his acorn-meal
Fought the fierce tusky boar; a shiv'ring wretch!
Aghast, and comfortless, when the bleak north,
With Winter charg'd, let the mix'd tempest fly,
Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost:
Then to the shelter of the hut he fled;
And the wild season, sordid, pin'd away.
For home he had not: home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty; where,
Supporting and supported, polish'd friends,
And dear relations, mingle into bliss.
But this the rugged savage never felt,
E'en desolate in crowds; and thus his days
Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd, along:
A waste of time! till industry approach'd,
And rous'd him from his miserable sloth:
His faculties unfolded; pointed out
Where lavish nature the directing hand
Of art demanded; shew'd him how to raise
His feeble force by the mechanic pow'rs,
To dig the min'ral from the vaulted earth,
On what to turn the piercing rage of fire,
On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast;
Gave the tall ancient forest to his ax;
Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till by degrees the finish'd fabric rose;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapt them in the woolly vestment warm,
Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn;
With wholesome viands fill'd his table, pour'd
The gen'rous glass around, inspir'd to wake
The life-refining soul of decent wit:
Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity;
But still advancing bolder, led him on
To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace;
And, breathing high ambition through his soul, Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view,
And bade him be the lord of all below.
Then gath❜ring men their natʼral pow'rs com-
bin'd,
And form'd a public; to the gen'ral good
Submitting, aiming, and conducting all.
For this the patriot-council met, the full,
The free, and fairly represented whole;
For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws,
Distinguish'd orders, animated arts,
And with joint force oppression chaining, set
Imperial justice at the helm; yet still
To them accountable: nor slavish dream'd
That toiling millions must resign their weal,
And all the honey of their search, to such
As for themselves alone themselves have rais'd.
Hence ev'ry form of cultivated life In order set, protected, and inspir'd, Into perfection wrought. Uniting all, Society grew numerous, high, polite, And happy. Nurse of art! the city rear'd In beauteous pride her tow'r-encircled head; And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew, From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew To bows strong straining, her aspiring sons.
Then commerce brought into the public walk The busy merchant; the big warehouse built; Rais'd the strong crane; chok'd up the loaded
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between
Possess'd the breezy void; the sooty hulk
Steer'd sluggish on; the splendid barge along
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around,
The boat, light-skimming, stretch'd its oary wings; While deep the various voice of fervent toil
From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with
To bear the British thunder, black, and bold,
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main.
Then too the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd Its ample roof; and luxury within
Pour'd out her glitt'ring stores: the canvas smooth,
With glowing life protub'rant, to the view
Embodied rose; the statue seem'd to breathe,
And soften into flesh, beneath the touch
Of forming art, imagination-flush'd.
All is the gift of industry; whate’er
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life
Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer'd by him
Sits at the social fire, and happy hears
Th' excluded tempest idly rave along;
His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Spring;
Without him Summer were an arid waste;
Nor to th'autumnal months could thus transmit
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores,
That, waving round, recall my wand'ring song.
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