Classic Poem

Now view the Regions, which their Fields display,
From the wild Shores of Adria 's boist'rous Sea,
And from the Alps , thrown up by Nature's Hand,
High Frontier Lines to guard Ausonia 's Land,
To Albia 's Mouth, and the rough Swevic Waves,
And from the Banks, which rapid Rhinus laves,
To the East Regions of th' Hircynian Wood,
Sarmatian Hills, and fair Odera 's Flood.
These numerous Nations, where the Sun displays
His oblique Glory, and less active Rays,
Are in proportion less acute, and more
Unapt for Thought, than those describ'd before,
Hence finer Spirits here do less abound,
And noble Poets are unfrequent found.
Yet this Defect their Tempers recompence
With a judicious Taste, and solid Sense;
Prudent, tho' not in Conversation bright,
Not rude as Russia , nor as France polite;
And tho' they rare as Wits or Criticks shine,
Or Schemes of dark Philosophy design,
Yet useful Knowledge studious they pursue,
Improve invented Arts, or find out new.
They shew a plain Simplicity of Mind,
Honest, tho' rough; sincere, tho' not refin'd.
Faith, Friendship, and Integrity they boast,
Virtues long since in well-bred Nations lost.

Of Sloth impatient, and the downy Bed,
Not with rich Wines, nor costly Dishes fed,
Pliant they keep their Limbs, their Sinews strong,
Maintain firm Health, and active Life prolong.
Hence Toil immense the hardy Natives bear,
Patient of trackless Land, and rig'rous Air,
If with the Huntsman's Arms they chase the Game,
Or with the Soldier's seek heroick.

Nor do's the rolling Sun a Soil survey,
In all the Stages of his annual Way,
Which yields more martial Fire, and where we find
To Strength of Body so much Courage join'd.
The Laurel, which rewards the Hero's Toil,
Luxuriant grows in all this friendly Soil.
The warlike Youth controul the haughty Race,
Who rule Byzantium , and inhabit Thrace ;
And bold in Arms, with like Success, repel
The Seine 's proud Waters, when they threatning swell.

Yet Cruelty and untam'd Fierceness, Crimes
The frequent Growth of Military Climes,
And haughty Nature, do too much debase
The Name and Honour of the German Race.

Oft with the strong Extraction of their Grain,
They cool'd their Senses, and inflame their Brain,
While in their Breasts unbridled Passions reign.
Britons , their Sons, hence learn'd th' immod're use
Of Wine, and strong intoxicating Juice.

Regard Batavia , whose well peopled Plain,
By Art is wrested from th' indignant Main.
Her moist, but fruitful Glebe and temp'rate Skies,
Produce a Stock industrious, frugal, wife.
'Tis true, their humid Air and marshy Field
Do not abundant Wit and Fancy yield,
Yet while their moderate, but prevailing Flegme
Restrains the Spirits too impetuous Flame,
They reason well, and just Ideas frame.
Than Her's, few Statesmen boast a clearer Sight,
Their Views extensive, and their Judgment right:
Nor for their Country's happy State reveal
More ardent Love, or more intrepid Zeal.

Forc'd by the narrow Limits of their Land,
Th' industrious People leave their Native Strand,
And on the Product of the Billows live,
While what the Soil denies, the Waters give.
Nor are they only by the Ocean fed,
While Winds and Waves afford them Wine and Bread;
But more, their Sons, who ignorant of Sloth,
O'erspread the Seas, import the Arts and Growth,
The various Pride of every distant Soil;
Out-rival'd only by Britannia 's Isle,
They send their numerous Colonies abroad,
And with Barbarick Wealth their Navies load:
Thus from strait Bounds their wide Dominion flows,
And from their Want their great Abundance grows.

This Region, so we learn from Caesar 's Pen,
Of all the Belgians bred the bravest Men.
Of Freedom then they shew'd a generous Taste,
And the fierce Pow'rs, that laid their Neighbours waste,
Valiant in Arms their Cohorts did attack,
And from their Frontiers drove th' Invaders back.
And while Iberia 's Monarchs they obey'd,
Of all the Tribes o'er wide Germania spread,
None did the Sword with greater Terror weild,
Nor won more Laurels in the Martial Field.
When after free, to Commerce they apply'd,
Studious of Wealth, they were by few out-vy'd.
Swift they arose to that prodigious Growth,
That they at once reproach'd Iberia 's Sloth,
And screen'd her Empire by their friendly Pow'r,
Beneath whose Yoke they servile groan'd before.

Fair Industry, what Voice can sing thy Praise,
Which could so soon with Skill successful raise
A Spot of scarcely habitable Land,
To Wealth immense, Renown, and wide Command!
Then is it strange, Batavians so revere
This Founder of their State, and so adhere
To her instructive Precepts, who are blest
With the rich Bounty of this generous Guest?

But Avarice do's thro' their Nation reign,
Intent on Gold they all their Sinews strain,
And oft by Fraud, or Force, extort unrighteous Gain.
Of vulgar Taste, and Manners unrefin'd,
Seditious, fierce, and turbulent of Mind,
When strong Commotions vex their troubled State,
They cruel Nature shew, and deadly Hate.
Nor can they neighb'ring Northern Realms up-braid,
While lawless they intoxicate their Head
With Native Liquors, or with Foreign Wine,
From Gallia 's Fields, or those that bound the Rhine .

To vertuous Deeds the Britons are inclin'd,
Their Manners not too rough, nor too refin'd;
Sincere of Heart, and generous, just and kind.
Industrious and intent on honest Gain,
Robust of Nerve, they various Toil sustain:
They plant the Garden, cultivate the Field,
Or bold in Arms the Spear and Fauchion wield.
Studious they send Abroad to needy Lands,
The Product of their Glebe, or Labour of their Hands.
Hardy their Annual Voyages perform,
And fearless ride familiar with the Storm.
Thro' yielding Waves they roam from Isle to Isle,
Now visit Russia 's Snows, now Guinea 's Soil.
Hence in Hesperia 's Silks the Britons shine,
Wear India 's Gems, and drink Burgundia 's Wine.
Their floating Oaks of War, from Shore to Shore
Awful advance, and with loud Thunder roar,
Like what they suffer'd on the Hills before.
And by the Winds, like that, convey'd it rolls
From Sun to Sun, and shakes the distant Poles.
This Naval Pow'r the Merchant's Wealth defends,
And Albion 's Empire o'er the Main extends.

Nor do we Britain 's Soil unfruitful find
Of Men for Council and the Helm design'd,
Able, when Clouds and Winds sedious rise,
To check the Tempest, and relieve the Skies;
Or in the Storm with steddy Hand to steer
The fluctuating State, and ease her Fear.
Nor do's Britannia less abundant yield
Heroes to lead her Armies to the Field.
Both these secure their Country's happy Fate,
While One defends, and One directs the State.

From this exhaustless Soil still springs a Kind,
Blest with superior Sense, and brighter Mind:
With clear Seraphick Faculties adorn'd,
For Science some, and some for Business turn'd.
Hence, Cam and Ouze , your Lights Divine arise,
That grace Britannia 's fair exempted Skies,
While on the Southern Realm thick Roman Darkness lies.
These Regions plenteous yield the noble Flame,
Which gives the Bard impulsive Thirst of Fame,
Rich Genius, Fancy delicate and strong,
And bright Ideas for the Epick Song:
A sprightly Thought, good Taste, and Humour fit
To sooth the Spleen, and form the Comick Wit.

Wit is a Native of this happy Isle,
It springs spontaneous from the kindly Soil;
By its own Force it perfect will become,
Fair Branches spread, and wear a noble Bloom.
Ripe Fruit adorns her Head, nor can the Frown
Of Fortune blast, or Hunger eat it down.
A British Muse from her own Instinct sings,
Ambitious soars with unassisted Wings:
Mindless of Pensions, and the Patron's Smile,
Our Poets still renew their hardy Toil.
The tuneful Genius here neglected grows,
And thrives, like Norway Pines, in Ice and Snows.

'Tis true exhausted with continu'd Pains
In singing Marlbro 's Toil, and great Campaigns,
They now sit silent to recruit their Veins;
Nor can their tuneful Contributions pay,
But plead their Poverty, and Patience pray.
They have unsung more Triumphs on their Hand,
Than unheard Causes on the Roll did stand,
When W — — our Court of Conscience did command.
Victorious Hero! in Compassion give
The panting Muses Time to breathe, and live.
Let them to Quarters of Refreshment go,
Their Genius there reviv'd again will flow
To sing thy Actions in a lofty Strain,
And Laurels won in this last great Campaign.
Attending then the Progress of thy Sword,
Which still new Themes of Rapture will afford,
They'll tell of Vict'ries struggling in the Womb
Of pregnant Time, and Triumphs yet to come.

While Neighb'ring Realms, too course or too polite,
To lawless Will resign their Civil Right,
Britannia 's brave and generous Sons restrain
Invading Might, and ancient Laws maintain.

When Happiness , Guest of celestial Kind,
Rang'd the wide Globe a peaceful Seat to find;
With outstretcht Wings she did her Way pursue,
Fame, to direct her Flight, before her flew.
Curious th' Enquirer did the Realms explore,
Rich with the glitt'ring Mass that Men adore,
Wide India 's Silver Veins, and Guinea 's golden Shore,
The lovely Stanger turn'd her scornful Face,
And left the rude inhospitable Place.

Then swift, as Heav'ns bright Envoys, did she fly
Thro' the thin Void of interjected Sky,
To visit Realms blest with Euphrates' Wave,
Which Indus ' Streams, and thine, Hydaspes , lave.
Her searching Eyes the Spicy-Isles survey,
And frontier Kingdoms near the Spring of Day,
Enrich'd with various Luxury, Perfumes,
Silks, Gems, and Pearls, and odoriferous Gums.
But when she saw the abject Slaves endure,
The Yoke of Lawless Will, and boundless Pow'r,
She left the Soil, and, following Fame, her Guide,
Flew to the Courts, where mighty Kings abide.
Here, grac'd with Purple, and a glitt'ring Crown,
Guarded with Arms, and stretch'd on easy Down,
She hop'd she might reside; but Cares of State,
Infernal Legions, that attend the Great,
Deny'd her Entrance at the Palace Gate.

Then long she roam'd o'er fertile Europe 's Soil,
And reach'd at length august Britannia 's Isle;
The Native's Temper, and the gentle Air,
Rescu'd the weary Trav'ller from Despair,
And rais'd her Hope she might inhabit there.
Following the Track of Thames , on either side
Fair Towns and verdant Vales she ravish'd spy'd,
And Indian Wealth advancing on his Tide.
Envy'd Augusta soon she did explore,
Britannia 's Glory on the Northern Shore,
Proud of her lofty Tow'rs, but of her People more.

In the West Quarter of the winding Flood,
An ancient Palace venerable stood
Between two Domes, which rise with solemn Awe,
In one Religion reigns, in one the Law.
Here on her Throne fair Liberty did shine,
Engaging was her Form, her Looks divine.
Still pleas'd, with Grace ineffable she smil'd,
Serene as Peace, and as a Seraph mild.
Celestial Odours from her Bosom spread,
While heav'nly Roses blossom'd round her Head;
Elystan Youth bloom'd lovely on her Face,
And more than human Charms assur'd her heav'nly Race.
Five Hundred chosen Freemen, her Delight,
Props of her Pow'r, and Guardians of her Right,
Check'd the proud Insults of ambitious Might.
Her beauteous Offspring to the Skies ally'd,
In graceful Order rang'd on either Side
Adorn her Throne; here smiling Plenty, Peace ,
Health, Strength, Success, Prosperity and Ease ;
There Prudence, Counsel, Sciences refin'd,
Rich Industry , and Arts of various Kind.

Soon the Seraphick Trav'ller had in view
This ancient Pile, and swiftly thither flew:
And stooping enter'd at the Palace Gate,
Where the mild Guardian of Britannia 's State,
And generous Friend of Humane Nature sate;
While she survey'd the venerable Place,
And view'd fair Liberty 's celestial Face,
Who, mid'st her bright Attendants, shone enthron'd,
She lowly bow'd, and her blest Parent own'd.
Determin'd soon, the charming Wand'rer cry'd,
Here, here, I fix; in Britain I'll reside:
Nor will I e'er forsake this gen'rous Soil,
While Liberty protects her Favourite Isle.

O Albion! more than Neighbour-Nations blest,
Thy Blessings know, and court thy heav'nly Guest:
Let Northern States by Rapine Wealth procure,
And stretch o'er injur'd Realms their lawless Pow'r:
Let Italy , with Wit, and Arts refin'd,
Invent Religions to enslave the Mind;
Let the polite, and well-bred Slaves of France ,
Fine Manners shew, and teach to Dress and Dance;
With artful Shifts, and Skill in State Intrigues,
Elude their Vows, and break their solemn Leagues.
Do thou, Britannia , check encroaching Might,
Fair Liberty support, and Civil Right:
Dictate to warring Neighbours, Terms of Peace,
Just Arbiter by Land, and Soveraign of the Seas.

Yet must th' impartial Muse the Britons blame,
For various Vices, which obstruct their Fame.

Fickle of Mind, and changing as their Skies,
What soon they value, they as soon despise.
Long the same Way they cannot Ease possess,
Nor in one Track, with Pleasure taste Success,
Tir'd with the stale, unalter'd Happiness.

Ingratitude, of curst infernal Soil
The rank Production, thrives in Albion 's Isle,
Pleas'd with the Glebe prodigious Growth acquires,
See, to the Clouds her blacker Head aspires;
Whence noxious Dews and blasting Poison drop
On Fame's swift Pinions, and her Progress stop.

Th' intemp'rate Natives oft their Spirits cheer,
With Foreign Wine, or strong Domestick Beer;
Till their hot Blood beats high in every Vein,
And fiery Fumes intoxicate the Brain;
While thro' the Pores, the Vapours Passage find,
And cloud the bright Apartments of the Mind,
Unbrace the Sinews, and the Senses bind.
Hence does a crude and unfermented Mass,
Strive thro' the Veins, and thro' the Strainers pass;
Which the soft Fibres load, pollute the Skin,
Obstruct the Liver, and disturb the Spleen.
Hence Dropsy, Jaundice, hence the Limbs remain
Unapt for Labour, and for Thought the Brain.

While Passions in their Breasts ungovern'd rage,
Distract the Mind, and War intestine wage,
Reason divine from her high Throne descends,
Lays by her Scepter, and her Pow'r suspends.
Mean time, transform'd, they various Shapes assume,
These rav'ning Bears, and Lyons those become,
Some odious Swine, some Goats, and Asses some.

Oft Envy, Discord, Avarice, and Pride,
With factious Heats, Britannia 's Sons divide;
Where each believes his Head is fit for Sway,
And is more pleas'd to govern, than obey;
And while with Zeal they Pow'r and Wealth pursue;
And all would Pilots be, and none the Crew,
Strife and seditious Tumults they create,
Affront Religion, and unhinge the State.
Blest Isle! would all thy Sons reputed fit
To guide thy State, to any Chief submit;
Or had'st thou fewer wise, th' entrusted Hand
Rever'd and prais'd, might then the Helm command;
Or from a generous Taste of true Renown,
Did all thy Greatness seek, and not their own.