As sunk the Sun, o'er all the flaming vast; But soon, regardless of the cumberous pomp, "Such were the dawnings of my watery reign; ་ And their veins bled through many a toiling age! The husbandman of him, as at the plough, And, as he charges through the prostrate war, [more, "And what, my thoughtless sons, should fire you Than when your well-carn'd empire of the deep The least beginning injury receives! What better cause can call your lightning forth? Your thunder wake? your dearest life demand? What better cause, than when your country sees The sly destruction at her vitals aim'd? For, oh, it much imports you, 'tis your all, To keep your trade entire, entire the force, And honour of your fleets: o'er that to watch, Ev'n with a hand severe, and jealous eye. In intercourse be gentle, generous, just, By wisdom polish'd, and of manners fair; But on the sea be terrible, untam'd, Unconquerable still; let none escape, Who shall but aim to touch your glory there. Is there the man, into the lion's den Who dares intrude, to snatch his young away? And is a Briton seiz'd? and seiz'd beneath The slumbering terrours of a British fleet? Then ardent rise! Oh, great in vengeance rise! O'erturn the proud, teach rapine to restore: | And as you ride sublimely round the world, Make every vessel stoop, make every state At once their welfare and their duty know. This is your glory: this your wisdom; this The native power for which you were design'd By Fate, when Fate design'd the firmest state, That e'er was seated on the subject sea; A state, alone, where Liberty should live, In these late times, this evening of mankind, When Athens, Rome, and Carthage are no more, The world almost in slavish sloth dissolv'd. For this, these rocks around your coast were thrown, | For this, your oaks, peculiar harden'd, shoot Strong into sturdy growth; for this, your hearts Swell with a sullen courage, growing still As danger grows; and strength, and toil for this Are liberal pour'd o'er all the fervent land. Then cherish this, this unexpensive power, Undangerous to the public, ever prompt, By lavish Nature thrust into your band: Aud, unencumber'd with the bulk immense [point Of conquest, whence huge empires rose, and fell Self crush'd, extend your reign from shore to shore, Where'er the wind your high behests can blow; And fix it deep on this eternal base. For should the sliding fabric once give way, Soon slacken'd quite, and past recovery broke, It gathers ruin as it rolls along, Steep rushing down to that devouring gulf, Where many a mighty empire buried lies. And should the big redundant flood of trade, In which ten thousand thousand labours join Their several currents, till the boundless tide Rolls in a radiant deluge o'er the land; Should this bright stream, the least inflected, Its course another way, o'er other lands The various treasure would resistless pour, Ne'er to be won again; its ancient tract Left a vile channel, desolate and dead, With all around a miserable waste. Not Egypt, were her better heaven, the Nile, Turn'd in the pride of flow; when o'er his rocks, And roaring cataracts, beyond the reach Of dizzy vision pil'd, in one wide flash An Ethiopian deluge foams amain (Whence wondering fable trac'd him from the sky); Ev'n not that prime of Earth, where harvests crowd On untill'd harvests, all the teeming year, If of the fat o'erflowing culture robb'd, Were then a more uncomfortable wild, Steril, and void; than, of her trade depriv'd, Britons, your boasted Isle: her princes sunk; Her high built honour moulder'd to the dust; Unnerv'd her force; her spirit vanish'd quite; With rapid wing her riches fled away; Her unfrequented ports alone the sign Of what she was; her merchants scatter'd wide; Her hollow shops shut up; and in her streets, Her fields, woods, markets, villages, and roads, The cheerful voice of Labour heard no more. "Oh, let not then waste Luxury impair From you, ye Heaven-belov'd May Liberty, Live o'er the land, the finer arts inspire, Lo! now my sons, the sons of Freedom! meet Burn in the patriot's thought, flow from his tongue In fearless truth; myself, transform'd, preside, And shed the spirit of Britannia round." This said; her fleeting form, and airy train, Sunk in the gale; and nought but ragged rocks Rush'd on the broken eye; and nought was heard But the rough cadence of the dashing wave. ANCIENT AND MODERN ITALY COMPARED: BEING THE FIRST PART OF LIBERTY, THE CONTENTS OF PART I. The following poem is thrown into the form of a poetical vision. Its scene the ruins of ancient Rome. The goddess of Liberty, who is suppossed to speak through the whole, appears, characterized as British Liberty; to ver. 44Gives a view of ancient Italy, and particularly of republican Rome, in all her magnificence and glory; to ver. 112. This contrasted by modern Italy; its vallies, mountains, culture, cities, people: the difference appearing strongest in the capital city Rome; to ver. 234, The ruins of the great works of Liberty more magni. ficent than the borrowed pomp of Oppression; and from them revived Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture; to ver. 256. The old Romans apostrophized, with regard to the several melancholy changes in Italy: Horace, Tully, and Virgil, with regard to their Tibur, Tusculum, and Naples; to ver. 287. That once finest and most ornamented part of Italy, all along the coast of Baïæ, how changed; to ver. 321. This desolation of Italy applied to Britain; to ver. 344, Address to the goddess of Liberty, that she would deduce from the first ages, her chief establishments, the description of which constitute the subject of the following parts of this poem. She assents, and commands what she says to be sung in Britain; whose happiness, arising from freedom, and a limited monarchy, she marks; to ver. 391. An immediate vision attends, and paints her words. Inyocation, SIR, WHEN I reflect upon that ready condescension, that preventing generosity, with which your royal highness received the following poem under your protection; I can alone ascribe it to the recommendation, and influence of the subject. In you the cause and concerns of liberty have so zealous a patron, as entitles whatever may have the least tendency to promote them to the distinction of your favour. And who can entertain this delightful reflection, without feeling a pleasure far superior to that of the fondest author; and of which all true lovers of their country must participate? To behold the noblest dispositions of the prince, and of the patriot, united: an overflowing benevolence, generosity, and candour of heart, joined to an lightened zeal for liberty, an intimate persuasion that on it depends, the happiness and glory both of kings and people: to see these shining out in pubblic virtues, as they have hitherto smiled in all the social lights and private accomplishments of life, is a prospect that cannot but inspire a general sentiment of satisfaction and gladness, more easy to be felt than expressed. en TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERIC, PRINCE OF WALES. If the following attempt to trace Liberty from the first ages down to her excellent establishment in Great Britain, ean at all merit your approbation, and prove an entertainment to your royal highness; if it can in any degree answer the dignity of the subject, and of the name under which I presume to shelter it, I have my best reward: particularly as it affords me an opportunity of declaring that I am, with the greatest zeal and respect, 0 SIR, your royal highness's most obedient and most devoted servant, JAMES THOMSON. LIBERTY. PART J. My lamented Talbot! while with thee The Muse gay rov'd the glad Hesperian round, Musing, I lay; warm from the sacred walks, 10 Lies, a vast monument, once glorious Rome, Snatch'd by these wonders to that world where But, ah, how chang'd; the falling poor remains Of what exalted once th' Ausonian shore. [gloom, Look back through time; and, rising from the Mark the dread scene, that paints whate'er I say. "The great republic see! that glow'd, sublime, With the mixt freedom of a thousand states: Rais'd on the thrones of kings her curule chair, And by her fasces aw'd the subject world. See busy millions quickening all the land, With cities throng'd, and teeming culture high :50 For Nature then smiled on her free-born sons, And pour'd the plenty that belongs to men. Behold, the country cheering, villas rise, In lively prospect; by the secret lapse Of brooks now lost and streams renown'd in song: In Umbria's closing vales, or on the brow Of her brown hills that breathe the scented gale: On Baie's viny coast; where peaceful seas, Fann'd by kind zephyrs, ever kiss the shore; And suns unclouded shine, through purest air : 60 Or in the spacious neighbourhood of Rome; Far-shining upward to the Sabine hills, To Anio's roar, and Tibur's olive shade; To where Præneste lifts her airy brow; Or downward spreading to the sunny shore, Where Alba breaths the freshness of the main. "See distant mountains leave their vallies dry, And o'er the proud arcade their tribute pour, To lave imperial Rome. For ages laid, Deep, massy, firm, diverging every way, With tombs of heroes sacred, see her roads: By various nations trod, and suppliant kings; With legions flaming, or with triumph gay. "Full in the centre of these wondrous works, The pride of Earth! Rome in her glory see! Behold her demigods, in senate met; All head to counsel, and all heart to act : The common-weal inspiring every tongue With fervent eloquence, unbrib'd, and bold; Ere tame corruption taught the servile herd To rank obedient to a master's voice. 80 "Her forum see, warm, popular, and loud, In trembling wonder hush'd, when the two sires, As they the private father greatly quell'd, Stood up the public fathers of the state. See Justice judging there, in human shape. Hark, how with Freedom's voice it thunders high, Or in soft murmurs sinks to Tully's tongue. “Her tribes, her census, see; her generous troops, Whose pay was glory, and their best reward, 90 Free for their country and for me to die; Ere mercenary murder grew a trade. "Mark, as the purple triumph waves along, The highest pomp and lowest fall of life. "Her festive games, the school of heroes, see; Her circus, ardent with contending youth; Her streets, her temples, palaces, and baths, Full of fair forms, of beauty's eldest-born, And of a people cast in virtue's mould. While sculpture lives around, and Asian hills 100 Lend their best stores to heave the pillar'd dome : All that to Roman strength the softer touch Of Grecian art can join. But language fails To paint this sun, this centre of mankind; Where every virtue, glory, treasure, art, Attracted strong, in heighten'd lustre met. "Need I the contrast mark? unjoyous view! A land in all, in government, in arts, In virtue, genius, earth and heaven, revers'd, Who but, these far-fam'd ruins to behold, Proofs of a people, whose heroic aims Soar'd far above the little selfish sphere Of doubting modern life; who but, infam'd With classic zeal, these consecrated scenes Of men and deeds to trace, unhappy land, Would trust thy wilds, and cities loose of sway? "Are these the vales, that, once, exulting states In their warm bosom fed? the mountains these, On whose high-blooming sides my sons, of old, I bred to glory? the dejected towns, 120 Where, mean, and sordid, life can scarce subsist, The scenes of ancient opulence, and pomp? "Come! by whatever sacred name disguis'd, Oppression, come! and in thy works rejoice! See Nature's richest plains to putrid fens Turn'd by thy fury. From their cheerful bounds, See raz'd th' enlivening village, farm, and scat. First, rural toil, by thy rapacious hand Robb'd of his poor reward, resign'd the plough; And now he dares not turn the noxious glebe. 130 'Tis thine entire. The lonely swain himself, Who loves at large along the grassy downs His flocks to pasture, thy drear champain flies. Far as the sickening eye can sweep around, 'Tis all one desert, desolate, and grey, Graz'd by the sullen buffalo alone; And where the rank uncultivated growth Of rotting ages taints the passing gale. Beneath the baleful blast the city pines, Or sinks enfeebled, or infected burns. Beneath it mourns the solitary road, Roll'd in rude mazes o'er th' abandon'd waste; While ancient ways, ingulf'd, are seen no more. Such thy dire plains, thou self-destroyer ! foc To human kind! Thy mountains too, profuse, Where savage nature blooms, seem their sad plaint To raise against thy desolating rod. There on the breezy brow, where thriving states, And famous cities, once, to the pleas'd Sun, Far other scenes of rising culture spread, Pale shine thy ragged towns. Neglected round, Fach harvest pines; the livid, lean produce Of heartless labour: while thy hated joys, Not proper pleasure, lift the lazy hand. Better to sink in sloth the woes of life, Than wake their rage with unavailing toil. Hence drooping Art almost to Nature leaves 66 150 110 140 The rude unguided year. Thin wave the gifts 171 [fields, "Nor half thy triumph this: cast, from brute Into the haunts of men thy ruthless eye. There buxom Plenty never turns her horn; The grace and virtue of exterior life, No clean convenience reigns; ev'n Sleep itself, Least delicate of powers, reluctant, there, Lays on the bed impure his heavy head. Thy horrid walk! dead, empty, unadorn'd, See streets whose echoes never know the voice Of cheerful Hurry, Commerce many-tongu'd, And Art mechanic at his various task, Fervent, employ'd. Mark the desponding race, Of occupation void, as void of hope; Hope, the glad ray, glanc'd from Eternal Good, That life enlivens, and exalts its powers, With views of fortune-madness all to them! By thee relentless seiz'd their better joys, To the soft aid of cordial airs they fly, Breathing a kind oblivion o'er their woes, And love and music melt their souls away. From feeble Justice see how rash Revenge, Trembling, the balance snatches; and the sword, Fearful himself, to venal ruffians gives. See where God's altar, nursing murder, stands, With the red touch of dark assassins stain'd. 200 "But chief let Rome, the mighty city! speak The full-exerted genius of thy reign. Behold her rise amid the lifeless waste, Expiring Nature all corrupted round; While the lone Tyber, through the desert plain, Winds his waste stores, and sull n sweeps along. Patch'd from my fragments, in unsolid pomp, Mark how the temple glares; and, artful drest, Amusive, draws the superstitious train. Mark how the palace lifts a lying front, Concealing often, in magnific jail, Proud Want; a deep unanimated gloom! And oft adjoining to the drear abode Of Misery, whose melancholy walls Seem its voracious grandeur to reproach. Within the city bounds, the desert see. See the rank vine o'er subterranean roofs, Indecent, spread; beneath whose fretted gold It once, exulting, flow'd. The people mark, Matchless, while fir'd by me; to public good Inexorably firm, just, generous, brave, Afraid of nothing but unworthy life, Elate with glory, an heroic soul Known to the vulgar breast: behold them now A thin despairing number, all-subdued, The slaves of slaves, by superstition fool'd, By vice unmann'd and a licentious rule, In guile ingenious, and in murder brave. Such in one land, beneath the same fair clime, Thy sons, Oppression, are; and such were mine. 920 160 180 190 210 "Ev'n with thy labour'd pomp, for whose vain, show 231 Deluded thousands starve; all age-begrim'd, 249 "What would you say, ye conquerors of Earth! Ye Romans! could you raise the laurel'd head; Could you the country see, by seas of blood, And the dread toil of ages, won so dear; Your pride, your triumph, and supreme delight! For whose defence oft, in the doubtful hour, You rush'd with rapture down the gulf of fate, Of death ambitious! till by aweful deeds, Virtues, and courage, that amaze mankind, The queen of nations rose; possest of all Which Nature, Art, and Glory could bestow: 260) What would you say, deep in the last abyss Of slavery, vice, and unambitious want, Thus to behold her sunk? Your crowded plains, Void of their cities; unadorn'd your hills; Ungrac'd your lakes; your ports to ships unknown; Your lawless floods, and your abandon'd streams : These could you know? these could you love Thy Tibur, Horace, could it now inspire, [again? Content, poetic ease, and rural joy, Soon bursting into song; while through the groves Of headlong Anio, dashing to the vale, 271 In many a tortur'd stream, you mus'd along? Yon wild retreat, where Superstition dreams, Could, Tully, you your Tusculum believe? And could you deem yon naked hills, that form, Fam'd in old song, the ship forsaken bay, Your Fornian shore? Once the delight of Earth, Where Art and Nature, ever smiling, join'd On the gay land to lavish all their stores, How chang'd, how vacant, Virgil, wide around, Would now your Naples seem? Disaster'd less By black Vesuvius thundering o'er the coast, His midnight earthquakes, and his mining fires, Than by despotic rage: that inward gnaws, A native foe: a foreign, tears without. First from your flatter'd Cæsars this began: Till, doom'd to tyrants an eternal prey, Thin-peopled spreads, at last, the syren plain, That the dire soul of Hannibal disarm'd; And wrapt in weeds the shore of Venus lies. There Baiæ sees no more the joyous throng; Her bank all beaming with the pride of Rome; No generous vines now bask along the hills, Where sport the breezes of the Tyrrhene main: With baths and temples mix'd, no villas rise; Nor, art sustain'd amid reluctant waves, 279 240 290 Draw the cool murmurs of the breathing deep : 310 A dreary stillness, saddening o'er the coast; Of human kind, what, when depriv'd of me, Here paus'd the goddess. By the pause assur'd, May ne'er those sacred raptures touch her more, Then, condescending kind, the heavenly power 330 |
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