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Such the kind power whofe piercing eye diffolves
Each mental fetter, and fets reafon free;
For Me infpiring an enlighten'd zeal,

The more tenacious as the more convincid

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How happy Freemen, and how wretched Slaves.
To Britons not unknown, to Britons full
The goddess spreads her ftores, the fecret foul
That quickens Trade, the breath unfeen that wafts
To them the treasures of a balanc'd world:
But finer arts (fave what the Mufe has fung
In daring flight, above all modern wing)
Neglected droop the head, and Public Works,
Broke by corruption into Private gain,
Not ornament, disgrace; not serve, deftroy.

440

Shall Britons, by their own joint wisdom rul'd, Beneath one Royal head, whose vital power Connects, enlivens, and exerts the whole; In finer arts and Public Works, fhall they To Gallia yield? yield to a land that bends, Depreft, and broke, beneath the will of one? Of one who, should th' unkingly thirst of gold, Or tyrant paffions, or ambition, prompt, Calls locuft-armies o'er the blasted land;

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Drains from its thirsty bounds the springs of wealth, His own infatiate refervoir to fill;

To the lone defert Patriot-merit frowns,

Or into dungeons Arts, when they their chains, Indignant, burfting, for their nobler works

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All other licence scorn but Truth's and Mine.
Oh! fhame to think! fhall Britons, in the field
Unconquer'd ftill, the better laurel lofe?
Even in that monarch's reign* who vainly dreamt,
By giddy power betray'd, and flatter'd pride,
To grasp unbounded fway; while, fwarming round,
His armies dar'd all Europe to the field;

461

To hoftile hands while treasure flow'd profufe,
And, that great fource of treasure, fubjects' blood,
Inhuman fquander'd, ficken'd every land;
From Britain, chief, while My fuperior fons, 465
In vengeance rushing, dash'd his idle hopes,
And bade his agonizing heart be low;
Even then, as in the golden calm of peace!

471

What Public Works, at home, what Arts arose!
What various Science fhone! what Genius glow'd!
'Tis not for me to paint, diffusive shot
O'er fair extents of land, the fhining Road;
The flood-compelling Arch; the long Canal +
Thro' mountains piercing and uniting feas;
The Dome refounding fweet with infant joy, 475
From Famine fav'd, or cruel-handed Shame.
And that where Valour counts his noble scars ‡;
The land where focial pleasure loves to dwell,
Of the fierce demon, Gothic Duel, freed;
The Robber from his furtheft foreft chas'd;

Lewis XIV.

+ The canal of Languedoc.

The hospitals for Foundlings and Invalide.

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The turbid city clear'd, and, by degrees,
Into fure peace the best Police refin'd,
Magnificence, and grace, and decent joy.
Let Gallic bards record how honour'd Arts
And Science, by defpotic bounty bless'd,
At distance flourish'd from My parent-eye;
Restoring ancient taste how Boileau rofe;
How the big Roman foul fhook, in Corneille,
The trembling fage; in elegant Racine,

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How the more powerful tho' more humble voice 49P
Of Nature-painting Greece refiftless breath'd
The whole-awaken'd heart; how Moliere's fcene,
Chaftis'd and regular, with well-judg'd wit,
Not scatter'd wild, and native humour, grac'd,
Was life itself; to public honours rais'd,
How learning in warm feminaries* fpread;
And, more for glory than the fmall reward,
How Emulation ftrove; how their pure tongue
Almoft obtain'd what was deny'd their arms;
From Rome,a while, how Painting, courted long, 500
With Pouffin came; ancient Design, that lifts
A fairer front, and looks another foul;
How the kind Art † that, of unvalu'd price,
The fam'd and only picture eafy gives,

Refin'd her touch, and thro' the fhadowed piece, 505
All the lived spirit of the painter pour'd;

*The academies of Sciences, of the Belles Lettres, and of Painting.

+ Engraving.

510

Coyeft of arts, how Sculpture northward deign'd
A look, and bade her Girardon arife;
How lavish Grandeur blaz'd the barren waste,
Aftonifh'd, faw the fudden palace swell,
And fountains fpout amid its arid fhades;
For leagues, bright vistas opening to the view,
How forefts in majestic gardens fmil'd;
How menial Arts, by their gay fifters taught,
Wove the deep flower, the blooming foliage train'd
In joyous figures o'er the filky lawn,

The palace cheer'd, illum'd the ftory'd wall,
And with the pencil vy'd the glowing loom *.

516

Thefe laurels, Louis! by the droppings rais'd Of thy profufion, its difhonour fhade, 520 And green thro' future times shall bind thy brow, While the vain honours of perfidious war Wither abhorr'd, or in oblivion loft. With what prevailing vigour had they fhot, And ftole a deeper root, by the full tide Of war-funk millions fed? Superior ftill, How had they branch'd luxuriant to the Ikies, In Britain planted, by the potent juice

525

Of Freedom fwell'd? Forc'd is the bloom of Arts,
A falfe uncertain fpring when Bounty gives,
Weak without Me, a tranfitory gleam.

Fair fhine the flippery days, enticing skies
Of favour fmile, and courtly breezes blow,

The tapestry of the Gobelins,

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Till Arts, betray'd, truft to the flattering air
Their tender blossom; then malignant rife
The blights of Envy, of those infect-clouds
That, blafting merit, often cover courts:
Nay, fhould, perchance, fome kind Mæcenas aid
The doubtful beamings of his prince's foul,
His wav'ring ardour fix, and unconfin'd
Diffuse his warm beneficence around;
Yet death, at laft, and wintry tyrants, come,
Each sprig of genius killing at the root:
But when with Me imperial Bounty joins,
Wide o'er the Public blows eternal spring,
While mingled autumn every harvest pours
Of every land; whate'er Invention, Art,
Creating Toil, and Nature, can produce.
Here ceas'd the goddefs, and her ardent wings,
Dipt in the colours of the heavenly bow,
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Stood waving radiance round, for sudden flight
Prepar'd, when thus, impatient, burst my prayer:
"Oh! forming Light of life! Oh! better Sun!
"Sun of mankind! by whom the cloudy North,
"Sublim'd, not envies Languedocian skies,
"That, unftain'd ether all, diffusive fmile,
"When shall we call these ancient laurels ours?
"And when Thy work complete ?" Straight with her
Celestial red, fhe touch'd my darken'd eyes: [hand,
As at the touch of day the fhades diffolve,

So quick, methought, the misty circle clear'd,

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