Say, do her dauntlefs Patriots feel

The fatal ax, and torturing wheel?

O'er her no cruel Tyrant reigns,

No patriot blood her fcaffold ftains,

'Tis Luxury's infidious hand.

Spreading Corruption through the land;

'Tis Indolence whofe powers controul

Each nobler purpose of the foul; 'Tis noisy Faction's selfish aim,

Difguis'd beneath thy fpecious name.

These are the fiends whofe fatal rage
In every clime, and every age,
Have overturn'd each noble pile
Rear'd by thy hands with useless toil:
But where in hardship's rugged school
Mankind haye learn'd themselves to rule,

Pale Slavery there may fhake in vain

Her iron rod, and galling chain:

No

No force the fearless foul can bind,

Or bow the unconquerable mind.

Scorn'd is the Tyrant's harsh decree
When inborn Virtue bids be free.

ODE

O'er Nature reigns with pleafing fway,

Whose mild command each gentler breast

Enraptur❜d glories to obey:

O give my ravish'd sense to trace

In every form thy polish'd grace,

Whether thy footsteps deign to tread
The level of the enamel'd mead,

Whether

Whether thou joy'st to haunt the dale,

Or drink the mountain's ambient gale,

Or, with a more ambitious aim,

To animate the human frame,

Bid the bright eye refiftlefs charm,

The fnowy bofom fwell, or fhape the ivory arm.

II.

When at the ETERNAL's dread command

From Chaos rofe this fabric fair,

He bade thy ornamenting hand

O'er all creation spread it's care.

By thee was Earth's maternal breast

Involv'd in verdure's radiant veft,

Heaven's fpacious arch thy tints embue
With the deep azure's dazzling hue,

O'er the bleak hill thy order bade

The foreft fpread luxuriant fhade,

Thy

Thy fingers through the irriguous mead

The river's fhining current lead

Till it's increafing waters gain

The unconfin'd expanfe of Ocean's vaft domain.

III.

Glows not a fhrub with vivid bloom

Mid the receffes of the vale;

Sheds not a flower it's rich perfume
To scent the pinions of the gale;
Waves not a beech it's leafy bough

To shade the mountain's hoary brow;

Bends not an ofier dank to lave

It's branches in the paffing wave.

Down the rude cliff's tremendous fide

Pours not a ftream it's whitening tide,

Nor arch'd by filver poplars, cool

Spreads it's fmooth breaft the lucid pool,

VOL. I.

C

But