Let him to fitter climes remove,

Far from the hero's and the patriot's love, And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell.

IV. 3.

O Hastings, not to all

Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend: Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call,

That to one general weal their different powers they bend,

Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine
Inform the bosom of the Muse's son;

Though with new honours the patrician's line
Advance from age to age; yet thus alone
They win the suffrage of impartial fame.
The poet's name

He best shall prove,

Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. But thee, O progeny of heroes old,

Thee to severer toil thy fate requires :

The fate which form'd thee in a chosen mould,

The grateful country of thy sires,
Thee to sublimer paths demand;
Sublimer than thy sires could trace,
Or thy own Edward teach his race,

Tho' Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand.

V. 1.

From rich domains and subject farms
They led the rustic youth to arms,
And kings their stern achievements fear'd;
While private strife their banners rear'd.

But loftier scenes to thee are shown,
Where empire's wide establish'd throne
No private master fills:

Where, long foretold, the People reigns: Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; And judgeth what he sees; and, as he judgeth, wills.

V. 2.

Here be it thine to calm and guide
The swelling democratic tide;

To watch the state's uncertain frame,
And baffle Faction's partial aim:
But chiefly, with determin'd zeal,
To quell that servile band, who kneel
To Freedom's banish'd foes;

That monster, which is daily found

Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows.

V. 3.

'Tis highest Heaven's command,

That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue; That what ensnares the heart should maim the

hand,

And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. But look on Freedom: see, through every age, What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! What arms, what regal pride, what priesuy rage, Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains Of happy swains,

Which now resound

Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures

bound,

Bear witness;
there, oft let the farmer hail
The sacred orchard which embowers his gate,
And show to strangers passing down the vale,
Where Candish, Booth, and Osborne sate;
When bursting from their country's chain,
Even in the midst of deadly harms,
Of papal snares and lawless arms,

They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign.

VI. 1.

This reign, these laws, this public care,
Which Nassau gave us all to share,
Had ne'er adorn'd the English name,
Could Fear have silenc'd Freedom's claim.
But Fear in vain attempts to bind
Those lofty efforts of the mind

Which social good inspires;

Where men, for this, assault a throne, Each adds the common welfare to his own; And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all acquires.

VI. 2.

Say, was it thus, when late we view'd
Our fields in civil blood imbru'd?

When fortune crown'd the barbarous host,

And half the astonish'd isle was lost?

Did one of all that vaunting train,
Who dare affront a peaceful reign,
Durst one in arms appear?

Durst one in counsels pledge his life?

Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife?

Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to

cheer?

VI. 3.

Yet, Hastings, these are they

Who challenge to themselves thy country's love; The true, the constant: who alone can weigh What glory should demand, or liberty approve! But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise Oft nobly sways

Ingenuous youth;

But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth,
Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone
For mortals fixeth that sublime award.
He, from the faithful records of his throne,
Bids the historian and the bard

Dispose of honour and of scorn;

Discern the patriot from the slave;

And write the good, the wise, the brave,

For lessons to the multitude unborn.

BOOK II.

ODE I.

THE REMONSTRANCE OF SHAKESPEARE:

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE ROYAL
WHILE THE FRENCH COMEDIANS WERE ACTING

BY SUBSCRIPTION. 1749.

IF, yet regardful of your native land,

Old Shakespeare's tongue you deign to understand,
Lo, from the blissful bowers where heaven rewards
Instructive sages and unblemish'd bards,

wit

I come, the ancient founder of the stage,
Intent to learn, in this discerning age,
What form of wit your fancies have embrac'd,
And whither tends your elegance of taste,
That thus at length our homely toils you spurn,
That thus, to foreign scenes you proudly turn,
That from my brow the laurel wreath you claim
To crown the rivals of your country's fame.

What though the footsteps of my devious Muse
The measur'd walks of Grecian art refuse?
Or though the frankness of my hardy style
Mock the nice touches of the critic's file?
Yet, what my age and climate held to view,
Impartial I survey'd, and fearless drew.

France