THE
EQUALITY
OF
MANKIND
.
BY
MR.
WODHULL
.
THERE
was
a
time
when
from
those
hapless
schools
,
Where
Science
droops
,
and
pension'd
Litchfield
rules
,
Inhaling
faction
,
with
the
Tory
race
On
Right
Divine
,
Hereditary
Grace
,
Much
did
I
waver
,
much
did
I
unite
The
names
of
Patriot
,
and
of
Jacobite
:
Thanks
to
my
friendly
stars
those
days
are
o'er
,
And
now
,
not
meanly
pinion'd
as
before
,
Untaught
to
bend
the
pliant
knee
,
and
join
The
slaves
,
who
flock
to
Grandeur's
tinsel
shrine
,
Kindling
at
thy
perpetual
flame
the
brand
Of
honest
Satire
,
with
officious
hand
To
thee
,
O
Truth
,
I
consecrate
the
blaze
;
—
Receive
,
exalt
,
invigorate
my
lays
.
The
studious
Pilgrim
,
as
his
bare
feet
tread
O'er
holy
Carmel
!
with
religious
dread
,
If
,
sunk
in
mouldering
rubbish
,
he
descries
Where
some
old
fane
,
or
massive
altar
lies
,
Kneeling
adores
it
with
a
stedfast
gaze
,
And
ruminates
the
works
of
mightier
days
,
Feasts
his
rapt
soul
on
pure
devotion's
fires
,
And
slowly
from
the
much-lov'd
spot
retires
.
Led
by
dark
Legend
on
from
clime
to
clime
Amid
th'
historic
ravages
of
Time
,
Thus
the
bold
Muse
asserts
her
liberal
plan
To
mark
the
genuine
privilege
of
man
,
To
prove
how
Fiction
,
and
how
Fact
agree
,
That
God
was
just
,
and
all
Mankind
were
free
.
From
Jura's
mount
,
from
those
inclement
skies
,
(
Where
pale
and
wan
Helvetia's
Genius
lies
,
His
arms
revers'd
,
his
shield
thrown
idly
by
,
To
note
the
sad
decays
of
Liberty
;
)
Come
,
stern
Philosophy
,
—
that
garb
of
woe
Befits
thee
most
,
majestically
slow
Thy
gait
,
while
rais'd
aloof
thy
red
right
hand
Waves
in
the
gale
Resentment's
flaming
brand
,
Such
as
,
from
Seine's
proud
banks
when
Rosseau
fled
,
Thy
Vengeance
hurl'd
at
mitred
Beaumont's
head
:
Beneath
thy
auspices
in
Albion's
plain
,
While
Justice
triumphs
in
a
George's
reign
,
Alone
,
yet
scorning
Caution's
coward
mask
,
Will
I
encounter
this
adventurous
task
;
Tho'
far
too
sanguine
to
conceal
their
rage
,
My
Foes
already
curse
each
opening
page
,
And
Friends
,
half
shrinking
at
so
rude
a
test
,
Glance
o'er
my
title
,
and
forswear
the
rest
.
Back
to
Creation's
infancy
,
when
Earth
Few
revolutions
dated
from
its
birth
,
My
theme
invites
:
—
poor
Exile
doom'd
to
rove
Far
from
the
sweets
of
Eden's
happy
grove
Behold
our
first
Progenitor
;
—
his
race
Plung'd
in
a
lineal
series
of
disgrace
,
Become
a
prey
from
that
ill-fated
hour
To
pain
,
disease
,
and
death's
remorseless
power
.
Some
evils
soon
attain'd
their
utmost
prime
,
To
perfect
others
was
a
work
of
time
.
Perhaps
in
those
rude
ages
,
when
no
law
Kept
the
warm
passions
of
mankind
in
awe
,
Rapine
was
frequent
;
from
his
neighbour's
fold
Some
proud
Oppressor
,
of
gigantic
mold
,
His
fleecy
charge
,
his
only
treasure
bore
,
And
left
the
shepherd
weltering
in
his
gore
:
Yet
then
no
dire
necessity
had
made
Murder
a
system
,
war
a
needful
trade
;
No
Frederick
,
foe
to
nature
and
to
man
,
Justice
his
pretext
,
tyranny
his
plan
,
Born
every
right
of
nations
to
betray
,
O'er
Leipzick's
walls
had
forc'd
his
desperate
way
;
Coarse
was
their
food
,
their
sordid
dwelling
small
,
Such
was
the
lot
of
one
,
the
lot
of
all
:
In
some
deep
vale
their
shapeless
altar
stood
Rais'd
with
the
casual
turf
,
or
unhewn
wood
;
Thither
,
by
grateful
adoration
taught
,
On
some
choice
festival
the
Rustic
brought
A
decent
offering
from
his
little
stock
,
Fruits
of
the
ground
,
or
firstlings
of
his
flock
:
No
temple
rear'd
its
fretted
roof
on
high
,
No
golden
censer's
blaze
perfum'd
the
sky
,
No
vain
High-Priest
with
surly
grandeur
trod
,
As
if
to
shame
the
meanness
of
his
God
.
When
,
like
the
Titans
,
earth's
rebellious
crew
To
Heaven's
high
bulwarks
rais'd
their
hostile
view
,
In
vain
,
their
boastful
arrogance
to
quell
,
Their
leaders
were
dispers'd
,
their
turret
fell
;
On
Shinar's
plains
Despotic
Power
unfurl'd
Her
banner
,
and
to
vex
the
groaning
world
From
shore
to
shore
the
strange
contagion
ran
;
Fraternal
concord
ceas'd
,
and
Monarchy
began
.
Thus
while
the
storms
in
hollow
caverns
sleep
,
And
scarce
a
zephyr
fans
the
quiet
deep
,
Suddenly
from
the
rock's
impending
brow
A
cumbrous
fragment
on
the
tide
below
Comes
rushing
downwards
;
boils
the
vast
profound
,
Waves
upon
waves
dash'd
on
the
beach
resound
.
Detested
Hunter
!
Nimrod
led
the
way
,
War
was
his
savage
pastime
,
man
his
prey
;
For
brutal
strength
by
trembling
vassals
fear'd
The
walls
of
ancient
Babylon
he
rear'd
:
In
his
high
dome
,
with
crayons
rude
portray'd
,
The
warrior's
dread
atchievements
were
display'd
;
Here
pierc'd
with
darts
th'
expiring
tyger
lay
,
There
rush'd
embattled
hosts
in
firm
array
;
There
in
his
car
the
thickest
ranks
he
broke
,
And
nations
yielded
to
his
galling
yoke
.
Such
empire's
origin
:
—
with
horrid
yell
From
the
black
confines
of
his
native
hell
Emerg'd
the
Demon
of
tyrannic
pride
,
And
Vice
came
onward
with
a
larger
stride
:
Ungrateful
were
the
task
,
and
endless
toil
To
trace
its
progress
thro'
each
distant
soil
Fertile
of
Tyrants
.
Craft
with
Prowess
join'd
Soon
tam'd
the
generous
fierceness
of
mankind
.
Dominion
first
was
gain'd
by
lawless
might
;
The
claim
of
long
Hereditary
Right
Succeeded
;
when
to
varnish
o'er
each
flaw
,
And
bow
the
world
with
superstitious
awe
,
The
Priests
dress'd
up
some
bugbear
of
their
own
,
Call'd
him
a
King
,
and
plac'd
him
on
a
throne
;
Then
caught
the
weakness
of
those
darker
times
,
And
dragg'd
in
Heaven
to
sanctify
his
crimes
.
Search
well
its
inmost
source
,
and
tell
whence
springs
This
sacred
claim
of
Israel's
vaunted
Kings
:
When
that
audacious
crew
renounc'd
their
God
,
Despis'd
his
mercies
,
brav'd
his
heaviest
rod
;
And
for
his
Patronage
too
mighty
grown
Set
up
a
little
Idol
of
their
own
:
Say
,
did
their
Prophet
urge
Saul's
Right
Divine
?
—
His
incense
blaz'd
not
at
so
vile
a
shrine
.
Or
did
some
ill
in
mystic
leaves
foretold
,
And
chronicled
by
gravest
seers
of
old
,
While
on
delusive
hopes
they
fondly
built
,
O'erwhelm
them
with
involuntary
guilt
?
No
;
'twas
their
baffled
pride
whose
last
resource
Dragg'd
this
perdition
on
their
heads
by
sorce
.
From
that
black
period
each
intenser
crime
,
That
brands
with
infamy
its
parent
clime
,
Assail'd
the
palace
,
overspread
the
land
,
And
in
their
temple
took
its
guilty
stand
.
The
seat
of
Chemosh
by
the
purple
vine
Was
planted
,
and
at
Moloch's
brazen
shrine
,
As
with
inhuman
zeal
the
trembling
sire
Consign'd
his
shrieking
infants
to
the
fire
,
While
with
loud
din
their
hideous
cymbals
rung
,
His
Worshippers
obscene
their
uncouth
orgies
sung
.
Belief
,
in
various
senses
understood
,
Is
man's
severest
curse
,
or
surest
good
.
Thus
,
in
the
meads
where
hallow'd
Jordan
glides
,
Enriching
Palestine
with
copious
tides
,
Where
springs
the
branching
palm
,
where
streams
the
oil
,
Where
fruitful
vineyards
bless
the
peasant's
toil
;
Deep
in
the
heart
of
Siddim's
odious
vale
,
Impregnating
with
death
each
tainted
gale
,
The
black
Asphaltes
from
its
slimy
bed
Sees
pitchy
clouds
,
sulphureous
vapours
,
spread
.
Let
Mecca
tell
,
big
with
aspiring
schemes
,
Seraphic
trances
,
counterfeited
dreams
,
How
subtle
Mahomet
,
of
servile
birth
,
Diffus'd
his
tenets
thro'
th'
astonish'd
earth
,
By
fire
and
sword
the
Nations
undeceiv'd
Confess'd
their
former
errors
,
and
believ'd
.
In
Judah's
soil
the
tree
of
knowledge
grew
,
Whose
fruit
unsound
,
yet
specious
to
the
view
,
Entrusted
to
the
treacherous
Levite's
care
,
Fell
,
ere
it
ripen'd
,
in
that
baleful
air
;
Relentless
Cowards
!
with
a
brutal
hand
Urging
their
fraudful
progress
thro'
the
land
,
O'er
Nature's
parting
agonies
they
trod
,
And
slaughter'd
millions
in
the
name
of
God
,
Each
right
of
arms
infringing
,
nor
forbore
To
dip
their
reeking
blades
in
infant
gore
;
Till
mighty
conscience
,
whose
prevailing
call
Opes
the
dread
volume
of
her
laws
to
all
,
Bewail'd
them
darken'd
by
so
strong
a
taint
;
That
none
discern'd
the
villain
from
the
saint
.
Far
other
fame
the
Christian
doctrine
gain'd
,
From
Heaven
transmitted
,
and
by
Heaven
maintain'd
,
With
scepter'd
arrogance
to
vex
the
earth
,
Yet
most
those
realms
which
gave
his
grandeur
birth
,
To
make
divided
Faith
and
Virtue
foes
,
On
its
firm
base
no
second
David
rose
:
Yet
from
this
pure
and
unpolluted
source
,
Ere
long
,
the
streams
in
a
perverted
course
Ran
foul
:
Fanatics
soon
began
to
call
Merit
a
sound
,
Religion
all
in
all
;
Infuriate
Priests
the
bonds
of
nature
tore
,
And
Persecution
drench'd
the
world
with
gore
.
Arm'd
with
the
Cross
,
o'er
Asia's
ravag'd
lands
,
See
sainted
Champions
pour
their
desperate
bands
,
A
dreaming
Hermit
leads
them
,
and
aloud
Preaches
salvation
to
the
frantic
crowd
:
Zeal
whets
the
poniard
,
and
with
ruthless
joy
They
come
,
they
sack
,
they
ravish
,
they
destroy
.
The
Muse
rejecting
this
historic
draught
With
bitter
truths
,
strict
testimonies
fraught
,
Its
civil
discords
,
and
religious
strife
O'erlooks
,
to
take
a
fairer
view
of
life
;
Borne
on
the
rapid
wings
of
Thought
she
flies
,
Opes
new
creations
,
seeks
for
other
skies
,
Revolving
all
that
sportive
Ovid
told
Of
cloudless
suns
,
of
ages
wing'd
with
gold
,
Those
ages
,
when
in
Peneus'
chearful
grove
Man
knew
no
sorrows
,
no
disease
but
Love
;
When
Nature's
self
was
unconstrain'd
and
young
,
And
Bards
rang'd
lawless
as
the
Gods
they
sung
.
Ye
happier
times
of
innocence
and
truth
,
Pleasing
instructors
of
my
thoughtless
youth
,
When
none
the
image
of
his
God
belied
,
No
Minions
crouch'd
beneath
a
Sultan's
pride
,
No
wealth
ensnar'd
,
no
poverty
distress'd
,
No
ruffians
plunder'd
,
and
no
kings
oppress'd
;
Tho'
doom'd
to
grovel
in
a
baser
age
,
Will
I
from
Memory's
enchanting
page
Retrace
your
scatter'd
annals
.
—
When
of
old
Arcadia's
peaceful
shepherds
uncontroul'd
Their
ranging
flocks
thro'
boundless
pastures
drove
,
Or
tun'd
their
pipes
beneath
the
myrtle
grove
,
Their
laws
on
brazen
tablets
unimprest
Were
deeply
grav'd
on
each
ingenuous
breast
,
No
proud
Vicegerent
of
Astrea
reign'd
,
Astrea's
self
her
own
decrees
maintain'd
.
Books
,
useless
lumber
,
yet
in
embryo
slept
,
No
Damon
rav'd
in
rhime
,
no
Delia
wept
;
Nor
had
,
nor
needed
they
the
casuist's
page
,
Plain
were
the
duties
of
that
simpler
age
:
For
Nature
,
best
of
mothers
,
pleas'd
to
teach
Virtues
no
modern
theorist
can
reach
;
With
characters
indelible
,
on
high
Blazon'd
her
system
of
Equality
.
Alas
!
how
gladly
would
Illusion's
beam
For
ever
vibrate
on
this
glittering
theme
:
Here
let
me
finish
;
nor
,
my
soul
to
wring
,
From
Fable's
sweets
proceed
to
Fable's
sting
:
I
must
;
—
these
fairy
dreams
have
had
their
space
,
And
now
the
dreadful
sequel
claims
a
place
.
Like
the
presumptuous
Mariner
,
whose
sails
,
Wasted
from
port
with
soft
Etesian
gales
,
Urge
his
o'erweening
eagerness
to
brave
Without
a
Pilot
the
perfidious
wave
,
Soon
o'er
whose
bark
th'
impetuous
tempests
sweep
,
And
bury
all
his
fortunes
in
the
deep
:
Seduc'd
by
Fancy's
charms
,
amidst
a
grove
Of
pleasing
errors
have
I
dar'd
to
rove
,
Till
,
half
desponding
,
comfortless
,
aghast
,
I
but
survey
bright
Freedom's
form
at
last
,
To
see
her
perish
by
as
sure
a
wound
Mid
these
enchantments
,
as
on
vulgar
ground
.
Fond
Epimetheus
!
when
thy
luckless
hand
Scatter'd
Pandora's
curses
o'er
the
land
,
Forth
from
the
casket
glittering
to
the
view
Scepters
,
and
crowns
,
delusive
trumpery
,
flew
;
Man
ey'd
the
bait
,
and
with
an
ideot
joy
Eagerly
rush'd
to
snatch
the
gilded
toy
:
Freedom
thenceforth
,
and
Peace
,
and
Justice
fled
,
Infernal
Discord
rear'd
her
snaky
head
From
blackest
Erebus
,
whose
scorpions
hurl'd
By
dread
Oppression
curb'd
a
wretched
world
;
Too
late
remorse
congeal'd
each
guilty
soul
,
And
forky
lightnings
flash'd
from
pole
to
pole
.
Where-e'er
we
search
the
vast
instructive
page
Of
Fact
,
or
Fiction
,
we
in
every
age
See
Saints
impal'd
and
tortur'd
at
the
stake
Thro'
fervent
zeal
,
and
for
Religion's
sake
;
Murders
and
sorceries
,
and
Men
,
whose
heart
Ne'er
prompted
one
humane
,
one
generous
part
,
While
some
vain
Mortal
,
arbiter
os
ill
,
Govern'd
the
rest
;
at
whose
imperious
will
Millions
of
slaughter'd
Heroes
bit
the
dust
To
soothe
a
Tyrant's
pride
,
a
Strumpet's
lust
;
Till
loathing
both
the
present
,
and
the
past
,
We
learn
this
melancholy
truth
at
last
;
"
On
Life's
rough
sea
by
stormy
passions
tost
,
"
Freedom
and
Virtue
were
together
lost
.
"
Shame
on
our
vaunted
reason
,
when
we
find
No
creature
else
so
senseless
,
and
so
blind
;
The
Brutes
indeed
to
force
superior
yield
,
And
leave
the
strongest
master
of
the
field
,
Yet
this
imperial
claim
to
none
descends
,
With
the
possessor's
strength
his
title
ends
;
Nor
,
if
their
enterprizing
Leader
calls
,
Do
they
forsake
their
well-replenish'd
stalls
,
And
with
heroic
frenzy
risk
their
life
,
Fomenting
some
unnecessary
strife
.
Unfall'n
,
and
uncorrupted
,
they
fulfil
Their
Nature's
end
,
their
mighty
Maker's
will
:
Stoop
then
,
ye
sons
of
Reason
,
stoop
,
and
own
The
veriest
beast
more
worthy
of
a
throne
.
The
Chain
,
whose
two
Extremities
unite
,
Presenting
still
a
middle
to
our
sight
,
Where
link
by
link
in
fruitless
search
we
tend
,
Yet
find
not
a
beginning
,
or
an
end
,
Talk
as
we
please
,
dissemble
how
we
can
,
Presents
a
just
similitude
of
Man
;
Who
,
in
each
state
of
life
constrain'd
to
own
A
strict
dependance
,
useless
when
alone
,
Cleaves
,
tho'
a
Monarch
,
to
his
native
dung
,
And
venerates
the
soil
from
whence
he
sprung
.
View
first
the
Slave
,
whom
his
unhappy
fate
In
galling
fetters
to
some
foreign
state
Tears
from
his
dearest
home
;
there
basely
sold
By
those
,
who
truck
humanity
for
gold
,
Abus'd
,
neglected
,
sinking
with
distress
,
When
all
is
dark
,
and
Hope
alone
can
bless
;
Ev'n
then
thro'
Life's
dim
curtain
he
descries
Some
happier
regions
,
and
serener
skies
,
Where
Commerce
never
rears
her
impious
head
,
No
Fiends
approach
,
no
Missionaries
tread
.
Next
him
the
Peasant
,
whose
incessant
toil
,
Harshly
requited
,
tills
the
rugged
soil
,
Press'd
by
the
barbarous
insults
of
the
great
,
The
foolish
prodigality
of
state
:
Yet
his
low
couch
no
thorny
cares
molest
,
His
even
spirits
yield
unbroken
rest
.
Those
restless
Beings
next
in
order
place
,
Whose
motley
stations
wear
a
doubtful
face
,
Who
dragg'd
by
Fortune
into
Middle
Life
,
That
vortex
of
malevolence
and
strife
,
Envying
the
great
,
and
scoffing
at
the
mean
,
Or
swol'n
with
pride
,
or
wasted
with
chagrin
,
Like
Mahomet's
unsettled
ashes
,
dwell
,
Midway
suspended
,
between
Heaven
and
Hell
.
Clad
with
those
Titles
antient
Justice
gave
To
grace
the
wise
,
the
generous
,
and
the
brave
,
O'er
these
ascend
the
Sycophants
of
Power
,
Their
master's
tools
,
the
minions
of
an
hour
.
Last
of
the
Group
,
to
close
this
irksome
scene
,
Childishly
great
,
and
eminently
mean
,
Behold
the
Monarch
,
whose
exalted
throne
,
Dupes
to
their
fear
,
his
Eastern
Vassals
own
;
When
by
the
toil
,
which
earns
the
Hind's
hard
bread
,
His
splendor
is
maintain'd
,
his
lux'ry
fed
;
Is
not
a
wretch
like
this
,
to
either
side
Of
Life's
perverse
extremities
allied
?
Here
to
its
source
the
line
revolving
tends
,
Here
close
the
points
,
and
here
the
circle
ends
.
When
lust
,
when
rapine
,
when
ungovern'd
rage
Strongly
characteris'd
the
iron
age
,
Law
soon
became
a
necessary
ill
,
Vice
edg'd
the
sword
,
and
gave
it
force
to
kill
;
Monarchs
,
we
see
,
were
then
at
first
design'd
A
general
good
,
a
blessing
unconfin'd
:
For
public
welfare
,
not
for
private
ends
,
From
sire
to
son
the
regal
crown
descends
.
When
Kings
support
afflicted
Virtue's
cause
,
Curb
potent
Vice
,
and
vindicate
the
laws
,
Our
high
respect
deservedly
they
share
,
Not
for
themselves
,
but
for
the
trust
they
bear
.
As
on
the
slippery
pinnacle
they
stand
Of
brittle
grandeur
,
with
rapacious
hand
If
they
assume
unlimited
domain
,
And
madly
govern
with
perverted
rein
The
vast
Machine
of
Empire
;
to
the
skies
Ascend
the
widow's
tears
,
the
orphan's
cries
;
A
Cato's
spirit
,
or
a
Cicero's
tongue
With
keen
resentment
animates
the
throng
;
Some
Hampden
hears
his
gasping
country's
groan
,
And
in
just
vengeance
shakes
a
guilty
throne
.
Should
inauspicious
Fortune
tear
away
From
Virtue's
grasp
the
triumphs
of
a
day
,
Should
Tyranny
,
by
long
success
grown
great
,
Crush
the
defenceless
victims
of
her
hate
,
Grim
Superstition
with
an
haggard
eye
Points
to
the
spoils
,
and
rears
her
torch
on
high
,
From
regal
conquest
her
own
inference
draws
,
And
blends
with
that
of
Heaven
its
dearer
cause
.
Blind
to
the
treacherous
snare
,
when
Fate
decreed
That
Troy
should
perish
by
the
wooden
steed
;
The
rest
stood
fix'd
with
hesitating
fear
,
While
bold
Laocoon
hurl'd
his
forcesul
spear
Against
the
monster
,
from
whose
knotty
side
Resounding
arms
,
and
Grecian
shrieks
replied
:
Stung
by
a
snake
the
pious
Priest
expir'd
,
While
Folly
gaz'd
,
and
Ignorance
admir'd
;
This
moral
curb'd
th'
infatuated
crew
—
"
The
sacrilegious
wretch
Minerva
slew
.
"
When
virtuous
Lord
Brooke
,
see
Clarendon's
History
.
Greville
thus
in
civil
strife
Crown'd
with
that
honest
prayer
his
closing
life
;
Can
we
unmov'd
with
indignation
bear
To
see
grave
Clarendon
,
whose
stile
,
whose
air
,
'Twixt
tortur'd
facts
,
and
scripture-phrases
quaint
,
Shews
half
the
royalist
,
and
half
the
saint
,
Stamp
on
his
ashes
with
a
dotard's
pride
,
And
execrate
the
cause
for
which
he
died
?
Ye
fields
of
Naseby
,
where
the
thundering
hand
.
Of
Freedom
greatly
prosper'd
;
where
that
band
Of
hardy
Patriots
resolutely
bore
,
Thro'
storms
of
horror
,
and
thro'
seas
of
gore
,
Their
country's
charter
,
snatch'd
in
happiest
hour
From
Sacerdotal
wrath
,
and
Kingly
power
:
Oft
as
your
towers
,
on
which
dread
Vengeance
wrote
Strong
characters
,
and
blasted
where
she
smote
,
In
youth's
gay
season
fix'd
my
roving
eye
,
How
did
I
hail
that
scene
of
victory
!
Ev'n
now
methinks
I
see
brave
Fairfax
tread
Th'
ensanguin'd
plain
;
—
to
grace
the
warrior's
head
From
Fame's
unsullied
grove
let
Virtue
bring
Those
laurels
green
with
everlasting
spring
:
Illustrious
meed
,
too
oft
profusely
strewn
To
deck
the
precincts
of
Ambition's
throne
,
To
crown
some
proud
Infringer
of
the
laws
:
But
due
to
vengeance
,
due
to
Britain's
cause
.
Nor
,
tho'
the
Muse
forlorn
and
helpless
stray
O'er
thy
bare
coast
,
nor
glean
one
fragrant
bay
,
Bleak
Caledonia
,
shalt
thou
pass
unsung
,
For
Freedom
on
thy
hills
her
arm
new-strung
:
When
thy
firm
sons
,
who
lov'd
the
public
weal
,
Or
inly
burn'd
to
see
tyrannic
Zeal
Against
their
altars
lift
an
impious
hand
,
And
threat
th'
accustom'd
worship
of
the
land
,
From
their
huge
cliffs
descending
like
a
flood
,
Stood
forth
,
prepar'd
to
seal
their
faith
with
blood
;
At
their
approach
while
perjur'd
Holland
fled
,
False
to
his
Master's
cause
,
his
Master's
bed
;
And
Hierarchy
,
that
fiend
,
whom
Scripture
paints
Drunk
with
the
blood
of
Martyrs
and
of
Sai
n
ts
,
Consign'd
by
Fate
in
penal
chains
to
dwell
,
Slunk
unregarded
to
her
native
hell
.
Curse
on
the
shouts
of
that
licentious
Throng
,
Whose
merriment
(
more
brutal
than
the
song
Of
mad
Agave
,
when
wild
Haemus
o'er
Her
Pentheus'
mangled
limbs
the
mother
bore
;
)
Proclaims
the
fall
of
Liberty
:
—
ye
shades
Of
mighty
Chiefs
,
from
your
Elysian
glades
Look
down
benign
,
avert
the
dire
presage
,
Nor
with
two
Charles's
brand
one
sinful
age
.
O
,
my
poor
country
!
what
capricious
tide
Of
Fortune
swells
the
Tyrant's
motley
pride
!
Around
his
brows
yon
servile
Prelates
twine
The
stale
and
blasted
wreath
of
Right
Divine
;
While
Harlots
,
like
the
Coan
Venus
fair
,
Move
their
light
feet
to
each
lascivious
air
.
Hence
with
your
orgies
!
—
righteous
Heaven
ordains
A
purer
worship
,
less
audacious
strains
.
When
falls
by
William's
sword
(
as
soon
it
must
)
This
Edifice
of
bigotry
and
lust
,
The
Muse
shall
start
from
her
inglorious
trance
,
And
give
to
Satire's
grasp
her
vengeful
lance
,
At
Truth's
historic
shrine
shall
victims
smoke
,
And
a
fresh
Stuart
bleed
at
every
stroke
:
Thine
too
,
perfidious
Albemarle
(
whose
steel
,
Drawn
to
protect
embroil'd
Britannia's
weal
,
Shrunk
from
thy
coward
arm
,
consign'd
the
reins
Of
power
to
Charles
,
and
forg'd
a
nation's
chains
)
Compar'd
with
nobler
villainies
or
old
,
High
deeds
,
on
plates
of
adamant
enroll'd
,
Shall
meet
the
felon's
undistinguish'd
fate
,
Sure
of
contempt
,
unworthy
of
our
hate
.
Once
more
emerging
from
this
baleful
reign
Of
Stuart
Kings
,
and
from
the
Pontiff's
chain
,
By
Boyne's
swift
current
Freedom
rear'd
her
head
,
When
from
those
banks
the
Papal
Tyrant
fled
;
Then
every
vale
with
lo
Paeans
rung
As
the
glad
reaper
at
his
harvest
sung
,
Thee
,
great
Nassau
,
benevolently
brave
,
Equally
born
to
conquer
,
and
to
save
,
When
Glory's
sounding
trump
to
Gallia's
shore
,
Th'
exulting
shouts
of
British
Freedom
bore
,
Dismay'd
she
saw
the
kindling
ardor
burn
,
And
Seine
hung
trembling
o'er
her
wasted
urn
.
Warm
with
the
same
benevolence
of
mind
,
Friends
to
the
native
rights
of
human
kind
,
Succeeding
Kings
extend
the
generous
plan
,
And
Brunswick
perfects
what
Nassau
began
.
Thrice
happy
Albion
!
in
whose
favour'd
land
Impartial
Justice
with
a
steady
hand
Poises
the
scales
of
empire
;
where
the
names
Of
servile
tenure
,
and
the
seudal
claims
Of
Norman
Peers
in
musty
tomes
decay
,
Swept
by
obliterating
years
away
.
But
if
in
Faction's
loud
and
empty
strain
Yon
frontless
rabble
vex
a
gentle
reign
,
In
Peace
itself
ideal
dangers
find
,
Provoke
new
wars
,
and
challenge
half
mankind
;
What
tho'
another
Tully
at
their
head
From
breast
to
breast
the
rank
contagion
spread
:
Say
,
what
are
we
?
some
pension'd
Patriot's
tools
,
Meer
artless
,
unsuspecting
,
British
fools
.
Born
in
a
changeful
clime
,
beneath
a
sky
Whence
storms
descend
,
and
hovering
vapours
fly
,
Stung
with
the
fever
,
tortur'd
with
the
spleen
,
Boisterously
merry
,
churlishly
serene
,
By
each
vague
blast
dejected
or
elate
,
Dupes
in
their
love
,
immoderate
in
their
hate
,
With
strange
formality
,
or
bearish
ease
,
Then
most
disgufiful
,
when
they
strive
to
please
,
No
happy
mean
the
sons
of
Albion
know
,
Their
wavering
tempers
ever
ebb
and
flow
,
Rank
contraries
,
in
nothing
they
agree
;
Untaught
to
serve
,
unable
to
be
free
.
While
parties
rage
,
O
Truth
!
with
honest
zeal
To
thee
,
protectress
of
my
lays
,
I
kneel
;
O
deign
to
shew
me
in
their
real
light
,
Stript
of
that
glare
which
cheats
the
dazzled
sight
,
The
Chiefs
,
whose
blazon'd
deeds
and
sounding
worth
Usurp
a
sphere
above
the
sons
of
earth
;
Ope
dark
Futurity's
instructive
womb
,
Conduct
me
to
the
mansions
of
the
tomb
,
Where
titles
cease
,
where
worldly
pomp
is
o'er
,
Mute
are
the
Nine
,
and
Flattery
soothes
no
more
:
So
may
I
take
a
more
impartial
view
,
Forget
the
rank
,
and
give
the
man
his
due
.
Yet
what
regards
it
or
the
world
,
or
me
,
How
Fame
awards
her
posthumous
decree
,
If
man
,
unconscious
of
her
loudest
breath
,
Sleep
a
cold
tenant
of
the
vale
of
death
?
Let
the
delirious
Siamois
compute
How
Sommonokodon
his
worshipp'd
brute
,
Thro'
being's
long
progressive
stages
trod
,
Began
an
Ox
,
and
ended
in
a
God
.
Our
fleeting
souls
let
the
weak
Pythagoras
.
Samian
trace
In
birds
,
in
beasts
,
and
all
the
finny
race
;
These
baseless
structures
,
fictions
light
and
vain
,
Coin'd
in
the
foldings
of
an
idle
brain
,
To
their
absurd
inventors
I
resign
,
They
are
not
in
the
Church's
creed
,
or
mine
.
But
shall
the
Peasant
from
his
turf-bound
grave
Or
rise
no
more
,
or
wake
again
a
Slave
?
And
shall
the
Monarch
in
a
future
state
,
With
the
same
visionary
pomp
elate
,
Resume
the
trappings
of
his
lost
command
,
And
wield
a
mimic
scepter
in
his
hand
?
Tho'
gloomy
Bigots
paint
a
partial
God
,
Bare
his
red
arm
,
and
lift
his
scorpion
rod
;
Tho'
on
a
text
perverting
Zealots
dwell
,
Till
Scripture
suits
the
purposes
of
hell
;
Think
for
thyself
;
—
suppose
life's
voyage
o'er
;
Think
for
thyself
,
and
envy
Kings
no
more
:
Resign'd
and
calm
await
that
awful
hour
,
That
crisis
of
all
sublunary
power
,
When
wreaths
of
glory
shall
adorn
the
Just
,
And
Empire's
proud
Colossus
sink
to
dust
.