« הקודםהמשך »
you can, what
Or tinkle in Change Alley, to amuse
A. Vouchsafe at least to pitch the key of rhyme
maintains A Briton's scorn of arbitrary chains ? That were a theme might animate the dead, And move the lips of poets cast in lead.
B. The cause, though worth the search, may yet Conjecture and remark, however shrewd. [elude They take perhaps a well directed aim, Who seek it in his climate and his frame. Liberal in all things else, yet Nature here With stern severity deals out the year. Winter invades the spring, and often pours A chilling flood on summer's drooping flowers; Unwelcome vapours quench autumnal beams, Ungenial blasts attending curl the streams; The peasants urge their harvest, ply the fork With double toil, and shiver at their work; Thus with a rigour, for his good design'd, She rears her favourite man of all mankind. His form robust and of elastic tone, Proportion'd well, half muscle and half bone,
Supplies with warm activity and force
like parrot fine and gay, Is kept to strut, look big, and talk away.
Born in a climate softer far than ours, Not form'd like us, with such Herculean powers, The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of misery far away; He drinks his simple beverage with a gust; And, feasting on an onion and a crust, We never feel the’ alacrity and joy, With which he shouts and carols Vide le Roi! Fill’d with as much true merriment and glee, As if he heard his king say–Slave, be free!
Thus happiness depends, as Nature shows, Less on exterior things than most suppose. Vigilant over all that he has made, Kind Providence attends with gracious aid; Bids equity throughout his works prevail, And weighs the nations in an even scale; He can encourage Slavery to a smile, And fill with discontent a British isle.
A. Freeman and slave then, if the case be such, Stand on a level; and you prove too much: If all men indiscriminately share His fostering power and tutelary care, As well be yoked by Despotism's hand As dwell at large in Britain's charter'd land.
B. No. Freedom has a thousand charms to show, That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. The mind attains beneath her happy reign The growth that Nature meant she should attain; The varied fields of science, ever new, Opening and wider opening on her view, She ventures onward with a prosperous force, While no base fear impedes her in her course. Religion, richest favour of the skies, Stands most reveal'd before the freeman's eyes; No shades of superstition blot the day, Liberty chases all that gloom away; The soul, emancipated, unoppress’d, Free to prove all things and hold fast the best, Learns much; and to a thousand listening minds Communicates with joy the good she finds; Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show His manly forehead to the fiercest foe; Glorious in war, but for the sake of
peace, His spirits rising as his toils increase, Guards well what arts and industry have won, And Freedom claims him for her first-born son. Slaves fight for what were better cast awayThe chain that binds them and a tyrant's sway; But they that fight for freedom undertake The noblest cause mankind can have at stake: Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call A blessing-freedom is the pledge of all.
O Liberty! the prisoner's pleasing dream,
A. Sing where you please; in such a cause I
B. Agreed. But would you sell or slay your For bounding and curvetting in his course? Or if, when ridden with a careless rein, He break away and seek the distant plain; No. His high mettle, under good control, Gives him Olympic speed, and shoots him to the
goal. Let Discipline employ her wholesome arts; Let magistrates alert perform their parts, Not skulk or put on a prudential mask, As if their duty were a desperate task; Let active Laws apply the needful curb, To guard the Peace that Riot would disturb; And Liberty, preserved from wild excess, Shall raise no feuds for armies to suppress. When Tumult lately burst his prison door, And set plebeian thousands in a roar, When he usurp'd Authority's just place, And dared to look his master in the face;
When the rude rabble's watchword was-destroy,
Incomparable gem! thy worth untold;
A. Patriots, alas! the few that have been found,
—the virtue still adorns our age, Though the chief actor died
grace, And all his country beaming in his face, He stood, as some inimitable hand Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand. No sycophant or slave, that dared oppose Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose; And every venal stickler for the yoke Felt himself crush'd at the first word he spoke.
Such men are raised to station and command, When Providence means mercy to a land.