Hast thou, tho' suckled at fair Freedom's breast,
Exported Slav'ry to the conquered East?
Pull'd down the tyrants India serv'd with dread,
And rais'd thyself, a greater in their stead?
Gone thither arm'd and hungry, return'd full,
Fed from the richest veins of the Mogul,
A despot big with pow'r obtain'd by wealth,
And that obtain'd by rapine and by stealth?
With Asiatick vices stor'd thy mind,

But left their virtues and thine own behind?

And having truck'd thy soul, brought home the fee,
To tempt the poor to sell himself to thee?

The Saviour's feast, his own bless'd bread and wine,

365

370

375

Hast thou by statute shov'd from its design

And made the symbols of atoning grace

An office-key, a picklock to a place,
That infidels may prove their title good
By an oath dipp'd in sacramental blood.?
A blot, that will be still a blot, in spite
Of all that grave apologists may write;

380

And though a bishop toil to cleanse the stain,

He wipes and scours the silver cup in vain.

385

And hast thou sworn on ev'ry slight pretence,

Till perjuries are common as bad pence,

While thousands, careless of the damning sin,

Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within?

Hast thou, when Heav'n has cloth'd thee with dis

grace,

390

And long provok'd, repaid thee to thy face,
(For thou hast known eclipses, and endur'd,
Dimness and anguish, all thy beams obscur'd,
When sin has shed dishonour on thy brow;

And never of a sabler hue than now,)

395

Hast thou with heart perverse and conscience sear'd,

Despising all rebuke, still persever'd,

And having chosen evil, scorn'd the voice

That cried, Repent!—and gloried in thy choice?

Thy fastings, when calamity at last

Suggests th' expedient of a yearly fast,

400

What mean they? Canst thou dream there is a pow'r In lighter diet at a later hour,

To charm to sleep the threat'ning of the skies,

And hide past folly from all-seeing eyes?

405

The fast that wins deliverance, and suspends

The stroke that a vindictive God intends,

Is to renounce hypocrisy ; to draw
Thy life upon the pattern of the law;
To war with pleasure, idoliz'd before ;

410

To vanquish lust, and wear its yoke no more.

All fasting else, whate'er be the pretence,

Is wooing mercy by renew'd offence.

Hast thou within thee sin, that in old time

Brought fire from Heav'n, the sex-abusing crime, 415
Whose horrid perpetration stamps disgrace,
Baboons are free from, upon human race?
Think on the fruitful and well-water'd spot
That fed the flocks and herds of wealthy Lot.

Where Paradise seem'd still vouchsaf'd on earth, 420
Burning and scorch'd into perpetual dearth;
Or in his words who damn'd the base desire,
Suff'ring the vengeance of eternal fire;
Then Nature injur'd, scandaliz'd, defil'd,

Unveil'd her blushing cheek, look'd on, and smil'd; 425
Beheld with joy the lovely scene defac'd,

And prais'd the wrath that laid her beauties waste.
Far be the thought from any verse of mine,

And farther still the form'd and fix'd design,

To thrust the charge of deeds, that I detest,

430

Against an innocent unconscious breast;

The man that dares traduce, because he can
With safety to himself, is not a man :

An individual is a sacred mark
Not to be pierc'd in play, or in the dark;
But publick censure speaks a publick foe,
Unless a zeal for virtue guide the blow.

435

The priestly brotherhood, devout, sincere, From mean self-int'rest and ambition clear, Their hope in Heav'n, servility their scorn, Prompt to persuade, expostulate, and warn,

440

Their wisdom pure, and giv'n them from above,
Their usefulness ensur'd by zeal and love,

As meek as the man Moses, and withal

As bold as, in Agrippa's presence, Paul,
Should fly the world's contaminating touch,
Holy and unpolluted ;-arc thine such?
Except a few with Eli's spirit bless'd,
Hophni and Phineas may describe the rest.

4-15

Where shall a teacher look, in days like these,

450

For ears and hearts that he can hope to please?
Look to the poor-the simple and the plain
Will hear perhaps thy salutary strain;
Humility is gentle, apt to learn,

Speak but the word, will listen and return,
Alas, not so the poorest of the flock
Are proud, and set their faces as a rock;
Denied that earthly opulence they choose,
God's better gift they scoff at and refuse.
The rich, the produce of a nobler stem,
Are more intelligent at least-try them.
Oh, vain inquiry! they, without remorse,

455

460

Are altogether gone a devious course;

Where beck'ning Pleasure leads them, wildly stray,

Have burst the bands, and cast the yoke away.

465

Now borne upon the wings of truth sublime,

Review thy dim original and prime.

This island, spot of unreclaim'd rude earth,
The cradle that receiv'd thee at thy birth,
Was rock'd by many a rough Norwegian blast,

470

And Danish howlings scar'd thee as they pass'd;
For thou wast born amid the din of arms,
And suck'd a breast that panted with alarms.

While yet thou wast a grov'ling puling chit,

Thy bones not fashion'd, and thy joints not knit, 475

The Roman taught thy stubborn knee to bow,
Though twice a Cæsar could not bend thee now:
His victory was of that orient light,

When the sun's shafts disperse the gloom of night.
Thy language at this distant moment shows
How much the country to the conqueror owes ;
Expressive, energetick, and refin'd,

It sparkles with the gems he left behind:
He brought thy land a blessing when he came ;
He found thee savage, and he left thee tame;
Taught thee to clothe thy pink'd and painted hide,
And grace thy figure with a soldier's pride;
He sow'd the seeds of order where he went,
Improv'd thee far beyond his own intent,
And, while he rul'd thee by the sword alone,
Made thee at last a warriour like his own.
Religion, if in heavenly truths attir'd,
Needs only to be seen to be admir'd;

But thine, as dark as witch'ries of the night,

480

485

490

Was form'd to harden hearts and shock the sight; 495
Thy Druids struck the well-hung harps they bore
With fingers deeply dyed in human gore;

And while the victim slowly bled to death,

Upon the rolling chords rung out his dying breath. Who brought the lamp, that with awaking beams Dispell'd thy gloom, and broke away thy dreams, 501 Tradition, now decrepit and worn out,

Babbler of ancient fables, leaves a doubt

But still light reach'd thee; and those gods of thine,

Woden and Thor, each tottering in his shrine,

505

Fell, broken and defac'd at his own door,

As Dagon in Philistia long before.

But Rome with sorceries and magick wand

Soon rais'd a cloud, that darken'd ev'ry land;

And thine was smother'd in the stench and fog

510

Of Tiber's marshes and the papal bog.

Then priests with bulls, and briefs, and shaven crowns And griping fists, and unrelenting frowns,

Legates and delegates with pow'rs from Hell,

Though heavenly in pretension, fleec'd thee well; 515 And to this hour, to keep it fresh in mind,

Thy soldiery, the pope's well-manag'd pack,

Some twigs of that old scourge are left behind.*

Were train'd beneath his lash, and knew the smack,

520

And when he laid them on the scent of blood,
Would hunt a Saracen through fire and flood.
Lavish of life, to win an empty tomb,

That prov'd a mint of wealth, a mine to Rome,
They left their bones beneath unfriendly skies,
His worthless absolution all the prize.
Thou wast the veriest slave in days of yore,

525

That ever dragg'd a chain or tugg'd an oar;
Thy monarchs arbitrary, fierce, unjust,
Themselves the slaves of bigotry or lust,
Disdain'd thy counsels, only in distress
Found thee a goodly spunge for Power to press.
Thy chiefs, the lords of many a petty fee,
Provok'd and harass'd, in return plagu'd thee;
Call'd thee away from peaceable employ,
Domestick happiness and rural joy,

530

535

To waste thy life in arms, or lay it down
In causeless feuds and bick'rings of their own.
Thy parliaments ador'd on bended knees
The sov'reignty they were conven'd to please;
Whate'er was ask'd, too timid to resist,
Complied with, and were graciously dismiss'd;
And if some Spartan soul a doubt express'd,
And blushing at the tameness of the resi,

540

Dar'd to suppose the subject had a choice,

He was a traitor by the general voice.

545

O slave! with powers thou didst not dare exert,

Verse cannot stoop so low as thy desert;

It shakes the sides of splenetick Disdain,

Thou self-entitled ruler of the main,

To trace thee to the date when yon fair sea,

550

That clips thy shores, had no such charms for thee;
Which may be found at Doctors' Commons.