Oh, flave! with pow'rs thou didst not dare exert,

Verse cannot stoop fo low as thy defert;

It shakes the fides of fplenetic difdain,

Thou felf-entitled ruler of the main,

To trace thee to the date when yon fair fea,

That clips thy fhores, had no fuch charms for thee; When other nations flew from coast to coast,

And thou hadst neither fleet nor flag to boast.

Kneel now, and lay thy forehead in the duft; Blush, if thou canft; not petrified, thou must; Act but an honeft and a faithful part; Compare what then thou waft with what thou art; And, God's difpofing providence confefs'd,

Obduracy itself must yield the reft.

Then thou art bound to serve him, and to prove,

Hour after hour, thy gratitude and love.

Has he not hid thee, and thy favour'd land, For ages fafe beneath his shelt'ring hand, Giv'n thee his bleffing on the clearest proof, Bid nations leagu'd against thee ftand aloof,

And charg'd hoftility and hate to roar

Where else they would, but not upon thy fhore?
His pow'r fecur'd thee when presumptuous Spain
Baptiz'd her fleet invincible in vain.

Her gloomy monarch, doubtful and refign'd
To ev'ry pang that racks an anxious mind,
Afk'd of the waves that broke upon his coaft,
What tidings? and the furge replied—All lost!
And, when the Stuart, leaning on the Scot,

Then too much fear'd, and now too much forgot,
Pierc'd to the very centre of the realm,

And hop'd to feize his abdicated helm,

'Twas but to prove how quickly, with a frown,
He that had rais'd thee could have pluck'd thee down.
Peculiar is the grace by thee poffefs'd,

Thy foes implacable, thy land at reft;
Thy thunders travel over earth and feas,
And all at home is pleasure, wealth, and ease.
Tis thus, extending his tempeftuous arm,
Thy Maker fills the nations with alarm,

While his own heav'n furveys the troubled scene,
And feels no change, unfhaken and ferene.
Freedom, in other lands scarce known to fhine,
Pours out a flood of splendour upon thine;

Thou haft as bright an int'reft in her rays
As ever Roman had in Rome's best days.
True freedom is where no restraint is known
That fcripture, justice, and good sense, disown,
Where only vice and injury are tied,

And all from fhore to fhore is free befide.

Such freedom is-and Windfor's hoary tow'rs
Stood trembling at the boldness of thy pow'rs,
That won a nymph on that immortal plain,
Like her the fabled Phoebus woo'd in vain :
He found the laurel only-happier you

Th' unfading laurel and the virgin too *!

Now think, if pleasure have a thought to fpare;

If God himself be not beneath her care;

Alluding to the grant of Magna Charta, which was extorted from king John by the Barons at Runnymede near Windfor.

If bus'nefs, constant as the wheels of time,
Can pause an hour to read a serious rhime;
If the new mail thy merchants now receive,
Or expectation of the next, give leave;
Oh think, if chargeable with deep arrears
For fuch indulgence gilding all thy years,

How much, though long neglected, shining yet,
The beams of heav'nly truth have fwell'd the debt!
When perfecuting zeal made royal sport
With tortur'd innocence in Mary's court,

And Bonner, blithe as shepherd at a wake,
Enjoy'd the fhow, and danc'd about the stake;
The facred book, its value understood,

Receiv'd the feal of martyrdom in blood,
Those holy men, fo full of truth and grace,
Seem, to reflection, of a diff'rent race;
Meek, modeft, venerable, wife, sincere,

In fuch a cause they could not dare to fear;

They could not purchase earth with such a prize,

Or fpare a life too fhort to reach the skies,

From them to thee convey'd along the tide,

Their ftreaming hearts pour'd freely when they died;

Those truths, which neither use nor years impair,

Invite thee, woo thee, to the blifs they share.

What dotage will not vanity maintain?

What web too weak to catch a modern brain?
The moles and bats in full affembly find,

On special search, the keen-ey'd eagle blind.
And did they dream, and art thou wiser now?
Prove it-if better, I fubmit and bow.

Wisdom and goodness are twin-born, one heart
Muft hold both fifters, never feen apart.
So then as darkness overfpread the deep,
Ere nature rose from her eternal fleep,

And this delightful earth, and that fair sky,
Leap'd out of nothing, call'd by the Moft High;
By fuch a change thy darkness is made light,
Thy chaos order, and thy weakness might;

And He, whofe pow'r mere nullity obeys,

Who found thee nothing, form'd thee for his praise.