home—

Fear, pity, justice, indignation start,

Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart;

Till, half a patriot, half a coward grown,

I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.

Yes, brother! curse with me that baleful hour,

When first ambition struck at regal power;

And thus, polluting honour in its source,

Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force.

Have we not seen, round Britain’s peopled shore,

Her useful sons exchang’d for useless ore?

Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste,

Like flaring tapers, brightening as they waste?

Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain,

Lead stern depopulation in her train—

train—

And over fields, where scatter’d hamlets rose,

In barren solitary pomp repose?

Have we not seen, at pleasure’s lordly call,

The smiling long-frequented village fall?—

 Prev. P 36/189 next