He, with the generous rustics, sate
Ón Uri's rocks in close divan;'
And wing'd that arrow sure as fate,
Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man.

STROPHE.

Arabia's scorching sands he cross'd,"
Where blasted Nature pants supine,
Conductor of her tribes adust,

To Freedom's adamantine shrine;
And many a Tartar-horde forlorn, aghast,3
He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing;
And taught amidst the dreary waste

The' all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing.
He virtue finds, like precious ore,

Diffused through every baser mould,
E'en now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore,
And turns the dross of Corsica to gold.*
He, guardian genius, taught my youth
Pomp's tinsel livery to despise:
My lips, by him chastised to truth,

Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies.

ANTISTROPHE.

Those sculptured halls my feet shall never tread,
Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combined,
To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread;

And forge vile shackles for the freeborn mind.
Where Insolence his wrinkled front uprears,

And all the flowers of spurious Fancy blow;
And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,

Full often wreathed around the miscreant's brow;
Where ever dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale Profession's froth;
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.

1 Alluding to the known story of William Tell and his associates, the fathers and founders of the confederacy of the Swiss Cantons.

2 The Arabs, rather than resign their independency, have often abandoned their habitations, and encountered all the horrors of the desert.

3 From the tyranny of Genghis-Khan, Timur-Bec, and other eastern conquerors, whole tribes of Tartars were used to fly into the remoter wastes of Cathay, where no army could follow them.

4 The noble stand made by Pascal Paoli and his associates against the usurpation of the French must endear them to all the sons of Liberty and Independence.

Of ample front the portly chief appear'd:
The hunted bear supplied a shaggy vest;
The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard;

And his broad shoulders braved the furious blast.
He stopp'd-he gazed-his bosom glow'd,

And deeply felt the' impression of her charms: He seized the' advantage Fate allow'd;

And straight compress'd her in his vigorous arms.

STROPHE.

The curlew scream'd, the tritons blew

Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite; Old Time exulted as he flew;

And Independence saw the light.

The light he saw in Albion's happy plains,
Where under cover of a flowering thorn,
While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains,

The' auspicious fruit of stolen embrace was horn-
The mountain dryads seized with joy

The smiling infant to their charge consign'd;
The Doric Muse caress'd the favourite boy;
The hermit Wisdom stored his opening mind.
As rolling years matured his age,

He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire;
While the mild passions in his breast assuage
The fiercer flames of his maternal sire.

ANTISTROPHE.

Accomplish'd thus, he wing'd his way,
And zealous roved from pole to pole,
The rolls of right eternal to display,

And warm with patriot thoughts the' aspiring soul.
On desert isles' 'twas he that raised

Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,

Where Tyranny beheld amazed

Fair Freedom's Temple, where he mark'd her grave.

He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms

To burst the' Iberian's double chain;2

And cities rear'd, and planted farms,

Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain.

1 Although Venice was built a considerable time before the era here assigned for the birth of Independence, the republic had not yet attained to any great degree of power and splendour.

2 The Low Countries were not only oppressed by grievous taxations, but likewise threatened with the establishment of the Inquisition, when the Seven Provinces revolted, and shook off the yoke of Spain.

He, with the generous rustics, sate
On Uri's rocks in close divan;1
And wing'd that arrow sure as fate,
Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man.

STROPHE.

Arabia's scorching sands he cross'd,2
Where blasted Nature pants supine,
Conductor of her tribes adust,

To Freedom's adamantine shrine;
And many a Tartar-horde forlorn, aghast,3
He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing;
And taught amidst the dreary waste

The' all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing.
He virtue finds, like precious ore,

Diffused through every baser mould,
E'en now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore,
And turns the dross of Corsica to gold.1
He, guardian genius, taught my youth
Pomp's tinsel livery to despise:
My lips, by him chastised to truth,

Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies.

ANTISTROPHE.

Those sculptured halls my feet shall never tread,
Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combined,
To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread;
And forge vile shackles for the freeborn mind.
Where Insolence his wrinkled front uprears,
And all the flowers of spurious Fancy blow;
And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,

Full often wreathed around the miscreant's brow;
Where ever dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale Profession's froth;
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.

1 Alluding to the known story of William Tell and his associates, the fathers and founders of the confederacy of the Swiss Cantons.

2 The Arabs, rather than resign their independency, have often abandoned their habitations, and encountered all the horrors of the desert.

3 From the tyranny of Genghis-Khan, Timur-Bec, and other eastern conquerors, whole tribes of Tartars were used to fly into the remoter wastes of Cathay, where no army could follow them.

4 The noble stand made by Pascal Paoli and his associates against the usurpation of the French must endear them to all the sons of Liberty and Independence.

STROPHE.

In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
With either India's glittering spoils oppress'd:
So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride,
That bears the treasure which he cannot taste.
For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,

And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string;
Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay;
And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring;
Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall intervene;
And Nature, still to all her feelings just,
In vengeance hang a damp on every scene,
Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust.

ANTISTROPHE.

Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts

By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell, Where the poised lark his evening ditty chants, And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. There Study shall with Solitude recline;

And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains; And Toil and Temperance sedately twine

The slender cord that fluttering Life sustains: And fearless Poverty shall guard the door;

And Taste, unspoil'd, the frugal table spread; And Industry supply the humble store;

And Sleep, unbribed, his dews refreshing shed: White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, Shall chase far off the goblins of the night; And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power! my patron and my pride.

TO MIRTH.

PARENT of joy! heart-easing Mirth!
Whether of Venus or Aurora born;
Yet goddess sure of heavenly birth,
Visit benign a son of Grief forlorn:
Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him, Mirth, display;
And o'er his raptured sense
Diffuse thy living indence:

So shall each hill, in purer green array'd,

And, flower-adorn'd, in new-born beauty glow;
The grove shall smooth the horrors of the shade,
And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow
Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day.
Labour with thee forgets his pain,

And aged Poverty can smile with thee;
If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain,
And weak the' uplifted arm of Tyranny.
The Morning opes on high
His universal eye;

And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden shower!

Lo! Darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray, Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn:

The brood obscene, that own her gloomy sway Troop in her rear, and fly the' approach of morn. Pale shivering ghosts, that dread the' all-cheering light, Quick as the lightning's flash glide to sepulchral night. But whence the gladdening beam

That pours

his purple stream

O'er the long prospect wide? "Tis Mirth. I see her sit

In majesty of light,

With Laughter at her side.

Bright-eyed Fancy hovering near
Wide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young Wit flings his pointed dart,
That guiltless strikes the willing heart.
Fear not now Affliction's power,
Fear not now wild Passion's rage,

Nor fear ye aught in evil hour,

Save the tardy hand of Age.

Now Mirth hath heard the suppliant Poet's prayer;
No cloud that rides the blast shall vex the troubled air

TO SLEEP.

SOFT Sleep, profoundly pleasing power,

Sweet patron of the peaceful hour,

O, listen from thy calm abode,
And hither wave thy magic rod;