How foreign these, though most in view!
Go, look your whole existence through ;
Thence form your rule; thence fix your estimate;
For so the gods. But, as the gains,

How great the toil! 'Twill cost more pains
To vanquish folly than reduce a state.

Hence, Reason, the first palm is thine:

Old Britain learn'd from thee to shine.
By thee Trade's swarming throng, gay Freedom's smile,
Armies,-in war, of fatal frown;

Of Peace the pride,-Arts flowing down,
Enrich, exalt, defend, instruct our isle.

STRAIN THE SECOND.

THE ARGUMENT.

Arts from commerce. Why Britons should pursue it.-What wealth includes. An historical digression, which kind is most frequent in Pindar. The wealth and wonderful glory of Tyre. The approach of her ruin. The cause of it. Her crimes through all ranks and orders. Her miserable fall. The neighbouring kings' just reflection on it. An awful image of the Divine power and vengeance. From what Tyre fell, and how deep her calamity.

COMMERCE gives Arts, as well as gain :

By Commerce wafted o'er the main,

They barbarous climes enlighten as they run.
Arts, the rich traffic of the soul,

May travel thus from pole to pole,

And gild the world with Learning's brighter sun.
Commerce gives learning, virtue, gold:
Ply Commerce, then, ye Britons bold,
Inured to winds and seas; lest gods repent,
The gods that throned you in the wave,
And, as the trident's emblem, gave

A triple realm, that awes the continent;

And awes with wealth; for wealth is power:
When Jove descends a golden shower,
'Tis navies, armies, empire, all in one.—

View, emulate, outshine old Tyre,
In scarlet robed, with gems on fire,
Her merchants princes, every deck a throne.
She sate an empress, awed the flood,
Her stable column, ocean trod;

She call'd the nations, and she call'd the seas;
By both obey'd: the Syrian sings;

The Cyprian's art her viol strings;
Togarmah's steed along her valley neighs.

The fir of Senir makes her floor,
And Bashan's oak, transform'd, her oar;
High Lebanon, her mast; far Dedan warms
Her mantled host; Arabia feeds;
Her sail of purple Egypt spreads;
Arvad sends mariners; the Persian, arms.

The world's last limit bounds her fame;
"The Golden City" was her name !
Those stars on earth, the topaz, onyx, blaze
Beneath her foot. Extent of coast,

And rich as Nile's, let others boast;
Hers the far nobler harvest of the seas.

O merchant-land, as Eden fair!
Ancient of empires! Nature's care!
The strength of ocean! head of Plenty's springs !
The pride of isles! in wars revered!
Mother of crafts! loved, courted, fear'd!
Pilot of kingdoms, and support of kings!

Great mart of nations!-But she fell :
Her pamper'd sons revolt, rebel;
Against his favourite isle loud roars the main ;
The tempest howls: her sculptured dome,
Soon the wolf's refuge, dragon's home;
The land one altar,-a whole people slain !

The destined Day puts on her frown;
The sable Hour is coming down;

She's on her march from yon almighty throne:
The sword and storm are in her hand;
She trumpets shrill her dread command:
"Dark be the light of earth, the boast unknown!

For, oh her sins, as red as blood,
As crimson deep, outcry the flood;

The Queen of Trade is bought! Once wise and just,
Now venal is her council's tongue :

How riot, violence, and wrong

Turn gold to dross, her blossom into dust!

To things inglorious, far beneath

Those high-born souls they proudly breathe,
Her sordid noble sinks, her mighty bow!
Is it for this the groves around
Return the tabret's sprightly sound?
Is it for this her great ones toss the brow?

What burning feuds 'twixt brothers reign!
To nuptials cold, how glows the vein,
Confounding kindred, and misleading right!
The spurious lord it o'er the land;
Bold blasphemy dares make a stand,
Assault the sky, and brandish all her might.
Tyre's artisan, sweet orator,

Her merchant, sage, big man of war,
Her judge, her prophet, nay, her hoary heads,
Whose brows with wisdom should be crown'd,
Her very priests, in guilt abound:

Hence the world's cedar all her honours sheds.

What dearth of truth! what thirst of gold!
Chiefs warm in peace, in battle cold!
What youth unletter'd! base ones lifted high!
What public boasts! what private views!
What desert temples, crowded stews!
What women!-practised but to roll an eye!
O foul of heart! her fairest dames
Decline the sun's intruding beams,

To mad the midnight in their gloomy haunts.
Alas! there is who sees them there;
There is who flatters not the fair,
When cymbals tinkle, and the virgin chants.
He sees, and thunders !-Now in vain
The courser paws, and foams the rein;
And chariots stream along the printed soil:
In vain her high presumptuous air,
In gorgeous vestments rich and rare,
O'er her proud shoulder throws the poor man's toil.
In robes or gems, her costly stain,
Green, scarlet, azure, shine in vain ;
In vain their golden heads their turrets rear:
In vain high-flavour'd foreign fruits,
Sidonian oils, and Lydian lutes,

Glide o'er her tongue, and melt upon her ear.

In vain wines flow in various streams; With helm and spear each pillar gleams; Damascus vain unfolds the glossy store;

The golden wedge from Ophir's coasts,
From Arab incense, vain she boasts;
Vain are her gods, and vainly men adore.
Bel falls, the mighty Nebo bends !
The nations hiss; her glory ends!
To ships, her confidence, she flies from foes.
Foes meet her there: the wind, the wave,
That once aid, strength, and grandeur gave,
Plunge her in seas, from which her glory rose.
Her ivory deck, embroider'd sail,
And mast of cedar nought avail,

Or pilot learn'd. She sinks; nor sinks alone;
Her gods sink with her! To the sky,
Which never more shall meet her eye,
She sends her soul out in one dreadful groan.

What, though so vast her naval might,
In her first dawn'd the British right,—
All, flags abased, her sea dominion greet?
What, though she longer warr'd than Troy?
At length her foes that isle destroy,
Whose conquest sail'd as far as sail'd her fleet.
The kings she clothed in purple shake
Their awful brows: "O foul mistake!
O fatal pride!" they cry: "This, this is she
Who said, 'With my own art and arm
In the world's wealth I wrap me warm ;'
And swell'd at heart, vain empress of the sea!
"This, this is she who meanly soar'd,
Alas, how low! to be adored,

And style herself a god!—Through stormy wars This eagle-isle her thunder bore,

High fed her young with human gore, And would have built her nest among the stars. "But ah, frail man, how impotent

To stand Heaven's vengeance or prevent, To turn aside the great Creator's aim !

Shall island-kings with Him contend, Who makes the poles beneath Him bend, And shall drink up the sea herself with flame?

"Earth, ether, empyræum bow,

When from the brazen mountain's brow
The God of battles takes His mighty bow;
Of wrath prepares to pour the flood,
Puts on his vesture dipp'd in blood,
And marches out to scourge the world below.
"Ah wretched isle, once call'd the great!
Ah wretched isle, and wise too late!
The vengeance of Jehovah is gone out:
Thy luxury, corruption, pride,

And freedom lost, the realms deride;
Adored thee standing, o'er thy ruins shout:

"To scourge with war, or peace bestow,
Was thine, O fallen, fallen low!

'Twas thine, of jarring thrones to still debates.
How art thou fallen, down, down, down!

Wide Waste, and Night, and Horror frown,
Where Empire flamed in gold, and balanced states."

STRAIN THE THIRD.

THE ARGUMENT.

An inference from this history. Advice to Britain. More proper to her
than other nations.-How far the stroke of tyranny reaches. What
supports our endeavours. The unconsidered benefits of liberty. Britain's
obligation to pursue trade.-Why above half the globe is sea.-Britain's
grandeur from her situation.-The winds, the seas, the constellations,
described. Sir Isaac Newton's praise.-Britain compared with other
states. The leviathan described. Britain's site, and ancient title to
the seas.
Who rivals her. Of Venice, Holland. Some despise
trade as mean. Censured for it. Trade's glory.-The late czar.
Solomon.-A surprising instance of magnificence. The merchant's
dignity. Compared with men of letters.

HENCE learn, as hearts are foul or pure,
Our fortunes wither or endure:

Nations may thrive, or perish, by the wave.
What storms from Jove's unwilling frown
A people's crimes solicit down!

Ocean's the womb of riches, and the grave.

This truth, O Britain! ponder well:
Virtues should rise, as fortunes swell.
What is large property? The sign of good,
Of worth superior: if 'tis less,

Another's treasure we possess,

And charge the gods with favours misbestow'd.