When tumult lately burft his prifon door,
And fet plebeian thousands in a roar;
When he ufurp'd authority's juft place,

And dar'd to look his mafter in the face;
When the rude rabble's watch-word was-destroy,
And blazing London feem'd a fecond Troy;
Liberty blush'd, and hung her drooping head,
Beheld their progress with the deepest dread;
Bluth'd, that effects like these the should produce,
Worfe than the deeds of galley-flaves broke loose.
She lofes in fuch ftorms her very name,

And fierce licentiousness fhould bear the blame.
Incomparable gem! thy worth untold;

Cheap, though blood-bought; and thrown away when fold;

May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend
Betray thee, while profeffing to defend;
Prize it, ye minifters; ye monarchs, fpare;
Ye patriots, guard it with a miser's care.

A. Patriots, alas! the few that have been found, Where most they flourish, upon English ground, The country's need have fcantily fupplied,

And the laft left the scene when Chatham died.

B. Not fo-the virtue ftill adorns our age,
Though the chief actor died upon the stage.
In him Demofthenes was heard again;
Liberty taught him her Athenian strain ;
She cloth'd him with authority and awe,
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law.
His fpeech, his form, his action, full of grace,
And all his country beaming in his face,
He ftood, as fome inimitable hand

Would ftrive to make a Paul or Tully stand.
No fycophant or flave, that dar'd oppose
Her facred caufe, but trembled when he rose;
And ev'ry venal stickler for the yoke

Felt himself crush'd at the firft word he spoke.

Such men are rais'd to ftation and command,
When Providence means mercy to a land.
He speaks, and they appear; to him they owe
Skill to direct, and strength to strike the blow;
To manage with addrefs, to feize with pow'r,
The crifis of a dark decifive hour.

So Gideon earn'd a vict'ry not his own;
Subferviency his praise, and that alone.
Poor England! thou art a devoted deer,
Befet with ev'ry ill but that of fear.

The nations hunt; all mark thee for a prey;
They fwarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay.
Undaunted ftill, though wearied and perplex'd,
Once Chatham fav'd thee; but who faves thee next?
Alas! the tide of pleasure sweeps along

All that should be the boaft of British song.
'Tis not the wreath that once adorn'd thy brow,
The prize of happier times, will serve thee now.
Our ancestry; a gallant chriftian race,
Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace,

Confefs'd a God; they kneel'd before they fought,
And prais'd him in the victories he wrought.
Now from the duft of ancient days bring forth
Their fober zeal, integrity, and worth;
Courage, ungrac'd by thefe, affronts the skies,
Is but the fire without the facrifice.

The ftream that feeds the well-fpring of the heart
Not more invigorates life's nobleft part,
Than virtue quickens, with a warmth divine,
The pow'rs that fin has brought to a decline.
A. Th' ineftimable estimate of Brown
Rofe like a paper-kite, and charm'd the town;
But measures, plann'd and executed well,
Shifted the wind that rais'd it, and it fell.

He trod the very felf-fame ground you tread,
And victory refuted all he said.

B. And yet his judgment was not fram'd amiss; Íts error, if it err'd, was merely this

He thought the dying hour already come,
And a complete recov'ry struck him dumb.
But that effeminacy, folly, luft,

Enervate and enfeeble, and needs must,
And that a nation fhamefully debas'd,
Will be despis'd and trampled on at last,
Unless sweet penitence her pow'rs renew,
Is truth, if history itself be true.

There is a time, and juftice marks the date,
For long-forbearing clemency to wait;
That hour elaps'd, th' incurable revolt

Is punish'd, and down comes the thunder-bolt.
If mercy then put by the threat'ning blow,
Muft the perform the fame kind office now?
May the and, if offended heav'n be still
Acceffible, and pray'r prevail, the will.
'Tis not, however, infolence and noife,
The tempeft of tumultuary joys,

Nor is it, yet, despondence and dismay,
Will win her vifits or engage her stay;

Pray'r only, and the penitential tear,

Can call her smiling down, and fix her here.
But, when a country (one that I could name)
In proftitution finks the sense of shame;
When infamous venality, grown bold,
Writes on his bofom, to be let or fold;
When perjury, that heav'n defying vice,
Sells oaths by tale, and at the lowest price,
Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
To turn a penny in the way of trade;

When av'rice starves (and never hides his face)
Two or three millions of the human race,

And not a tongue inquires, how, where, or when,
Though confcience will have twinges now and then;
When profanation of the facred cause

In all its parts, times, miniftry, and laws,
Bespeaks a land, once christian, fall'n, and loft
In all that wars against that title moft;
What follows next let cities of great name,
And regions long fince defolate, proclaim.
Nineveh, Babylon, and ancient Rome,

Speak to the present times, and times to come;
They cry aloud in ev'ry careless ear,

Stop, while ye may; fufpend your mad career;