TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES.

SIR,

WHEN I reflect upon that ready condefcenfion,

that preventing generofity, with which Your Royal Highness received the following poem under your protection; I can alone afcribe it to the recommendation, and influence of the subject. In you the cause and concerns of Liberty have so zealous a patron, as entitles whatever may have the leaft tendency to promote them, to the diftinction of your favour. And who can entertain this delightful reflection, without feeling a pleasure far fuperior to that of the fondeft author; and of which all true lovers of their country muft participate? To behold the nobleft difpofitions of the prince, and of the patriot, united: an overflowing benevolence, generofity, and candour of heart, joined to an enlightened zeal for liberty, an intimate persuasion that on it depends the happiness and glory both of kings and people to see these fhining out in public virtues, as they have hitherto fimiled in all the focial lights and private accomplishments of life, is a profpect that cannot but infpire a general fentiment of fatisfaction and gladness, more easy to be felt than expreffed.

If

If the following attempt to trace Liberty, from the firft ages down to her excellent establishment in GreatBritain, can at all merit your approbation, and prove an entertainment to Your Royal Highness; if it can in any degree answer the dignity of the subject, and of the name under which I prefume to shelter it; I have my beft reward: particularly as it affords me an opportunity of declaring that I am, with the greatest zeal and refpect,

SIR,

Your Royal Highness's

Moft obedient

and moft devoted fervant,

JAMES THOMSON.

LIBERTY.

PART I.

My lamented Talbot! while with thee
The Mufe gay rov'd the glad Hefperian round,
And drew th' inspiring breath of ancient arts;
Ah! little thought she her returning verse
Should fing our darling fubject to thy fhade.
And does the myftic veil, from mortal beam,
Involve those eyes where every virtue fmil'd,
And all thy Father's candid spirit fhone?
The light of reason, pure, without a cloud;
Full of the generous heart, the mild regard ;
Honour difdaining blemish, cordial faith,
And limpid truth, that looks the very foul.
But to the death of mighty nations turn,
My ftrain; be there abforpt the private tear.
Mufing, I lay; warm from the facred walks,
Where at each step imagination burns:

While, fcatter'd wide around, aweful, and hoar,
Lies, a vast monument, once-glorious Rome,
The tomb of empire! ruins! that efface
Whate'er, of finish'd, modern pomp can boaft.

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Snatch'd by these wonders to that world where thought Unfetter'd ranges, Fancy's magic hand

VOL. II.

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Led

Led me anew o'er all the folemn scene,

Still in the mind's pure eye more folemn dreft.
When strait, methought, the fair majestic Power
Of Liberty appear'd. Not, as of old,
Extended in her hand the cap, and rod,
Whofe flave-enlarging touch gave double life:
But her bright temples bound with British oak,
And naval honours nodded on her brow.
Sublime of port: loose o'er her shoulder flow'd
Her fea-green robe, with conftellations gay.
An ifland-goddess now; and her high care
The queen of ifles, the mistrefs of the main.
My heart beat filial transport at the fight;
And, as fhe mov'd to speak, th' awaken'd Mufe
Liften'd intenfe. A while the look'd around,
With mournful eye the well-known ruins mark'd,
And then, her fighs repreffing, thus began.

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Mine are these wonders, all thou see'st is mine; But, ah, how chang'd; the falling poor remains Of what exalted once th' Aufonian fhore.

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Look back through time; and, rifing from the gloom, Mark the dread fcene, that paints whate'er I fay.

The great republic fee! that glow'd, fublime,

With the mixt freedom of a thoufand ftates;
Rais'd on the thrones of kings her Curule Chair,
And by her Fafces aw'd the fubject world.
See bufy millions quickening all the land,
With cities throng'd, and teeming culture high:
For Nature then fmil'd on her free-born fons,
And pour'd the plenty that belongs to Men.

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Behold,

Behold, the country chearing, villas rise,

In lively profpect; by the fecret lapfe

Of brooks now loft and ftreams renown'd in fong: 55
In Umbria's closing vales, or on the brow

Of her brown hills that breathe the fcented gale:
On Baia's viny coaft; where peaceful feas,
Fan'd by kind zephyrs, ever kifs the shore;
And funs unclouded fhine, through pureft air:
Or in the fpacious neighbourhood of Rome;
Far-fhining upward to the Sabine hills,
To Anio's roar, and Tibur's olive shade;
To where Preneste lifts her airy brow;
Or downward spreading to the funny fhore,
Where Alba breathes the freshness of the main.
See diftant mountains leave their vallies dry,
And o'er the proud arcade their tribute pour,
To lave imperial Rome. For ages laid,
Deep, massy, firm, diverging every way,
With tombs of heroes facred, fee her roads :
By various nations trod, and fuppliant kings;
With legions flaming, or with triumph gay.

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Full in the centre of these wondrous works,
The pride of earth! Rome in her glory fee!
Behold her demi-gods, in fenate met;
All head to counsel, and all heart to act:
The common-weal inspiring every tongue
With fervent eloquence, unbrib'd, and bold;
Ere tame Corruption taught the fervile herd

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To rank obedient to a master's voice.
Her Forum fee, warm, popular, and loud,