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O'er Latian meads, in Freedom's evil hour, Beneath the zenith of Imperial Power, Undaunted Lucan roam'd; he nobly paid The harmonious dirge to vanquish'd Pompey's shade, And echo'd godlike Cato's loud applause, Who dar'd to perish in a virtuous cause.

Th' outrageous pride of Stuart Kings to quell,
And crush oppression, from the shades of hell,
When Vengeance, issuing with remorseless frown,
Tore from a Charles's brows the sullied crown,
Britannia's champion, Milton, wak'd the lyre;
Scorning the Pedant's guile, the Bigot's ire,
Ile sung those Chiefs Fame's sacred annals boast,
Chiefs who to conquest led their patriot host,
And, with a soul unwarp'd by vulgar awe,
Asserted the supremacy of Law:
Nor, when another Charles in pomp restor'd,
By mitred slaves and prostitutes ador’d,
With his gay troop on Freedom's banners trod,
Crouch'd to the Tyrant's throne, or haild this earth-

born God.
The torch of Liberty, in later days,
Blazes awhile, and smouldering soon decays.
That energy, which erst was found t'adorn
The youthful * Akenside's illustrious morn,

* Most of Dr. Akenside's Poems were written in his youth: he died at the age of forty-nine, having been several years before ap: pointed one of the Queen's Physicians. The passages noticed may be found in his Odes to the Right Honourable Charles Townshend, to Dr. Hardinge, and on leaving Holland, in which the excellent author of the Characteristics, originally the object of his panegyric, is now passed over in silence; “ Ashley's Wisdomn” being effaced, to make room for “Somers' Counsels.” In the posthumous edition, published 1772, we find the “ Pleasures of linagination” wuch garbled, and dedicated to Jeremiah Dyo son, Esq.

When he, th' apostate Statesman to appall,
Chose for his theme the haughty Strafford's fall,
Or dar'd with manly spirit to unfold
" What day the people's stern decree is told
“ To unbelieving Kings;" devoid of power,
Soon shrunk unnerv'd in his meridian hour;
All “Ashley's wisdom," join'd with “Hampden's arms,"
Then from his page effac’d, had lost its charms,
The Heaven-born Muse descended from her sphere,
His parting lays were tun'd for Dyson's car.

Hulls * Senator, pourtray'd by Mason's hand,
© Walk'd forth vindictive through a venal land.”
How Abdalominus, the Bard pursu'd,
With scornful smile the robes of Empire view'd.
Why then, recanting every generous strain,
Such as old Humber heard, but heard in vain,
When Gallia's Genius, vilely compass'd round
With swarms of Despots, sore through many a wound,
By all forsaken, in convulsive pain
Burst from his nervous arms the galling chain,
Caught this exhausted Veteran the mean hate
Of those who toild to crush a rising state?

But from Vertumnus' and Pomona's bowers, Twin'd with salubrious plants and brightest Howers, Lo! Darwin comes; around his hoary head Hath Liberty her verdant trophies spread : 'Twas his to turn from every gaudier theme, “ The painted mistress or the purling stream," And sing Columbia rescued from her chains, The light faint gleaming on Hibernia's plains,

* Andrew Marvell. The reader is entreated to compare Mr. Mason's " Ode to Independence" and the “ Episode of Abdalo. minus in his English Garden" with the “ Palinodia” in the third volume of his Poems, published just before his death.

Or France, like vigorous Sampson, when of yore,
Rent from their hinges, Gaza's gates he bore.

With nought but Bourbon's glory Paris rung,
Till Rome's unrivall’d Patriots Corneille sung,
Recall’d his audience to a pristine age,
And rous'd with loftier sentiments the stage :
In after-days Voltaire his steps pursued;
Gay Courtiers first avenging Brutus view'd,
Then hail'd the march of that victorious Dame
Fair Liberty, as down Morat she came *,
And proudly stalk'd o'er slaughter's Charles the Brave,
Stain'd with the gore of many an Austrian slave.
But ah! he sunk into the silent tomb,
While unexplor'd Futurity's deep gloom
Yet o'er his country hung. What Muse of fire
Shall catch his manile, with auspicious lyre
Those names recording to whom millions owe
Their rescue from th' o'erwhelming tides of woe?

Loud rvar'd the blast, convulsions shook the sky, Amazement saw no guardian Angel nigh,

* “ La Liberté, j' ai vû cette Deesse altiere
« Descendre du haut de Morat en habit du guerriere,
“Ses mains teintes du sang des fiers Autrichiens,
** Et de Charles le temeraire.”


So little of their celebrated Poet's love of Freedom was thought to have been transfused into the breasts of Frenchmen, that we find a British Laureat, one of Voltaire's contemporaries, rashly expressing hiniself thus :

« The land of Freedom, with the land of Slaves,
As Nature's friend, must wage eternal War."

WHITEHEAD. Reasons equally strong for setting no bound to hostilities undertaken from motives quite the reverse have lately issued in a profusion hardly credible from the Press, the Pulpit, and the Senate,

When the huge Danube (whose ferocious tribes,
Inur'd to havoc, thirsting after bribes,
Peace and her train of social Arts detest,)
In noon-tide glare display'd his haughty crest,
And, masking vile designs with feigu'd alarms,
Rais'd his hoarse voice, and call'd the World to arms,

But its own bulk dissolves th' unwieldy mass;
Mephitic clouds exhale their stores, and pass :
Let Europe's sons, scarce rescued from dismay,
Welcome these oinens of a happier day.
May pure Religion o'er the soul diffuse
Her healing balm, and point to nobler views,
Wrest from the Hypocrite Power's scorpion rod,
Assert the prostituted name of God,
And to that “ Holy Mount*," where Aspics change
Their nature, where innoxious Lions range,
Greatest and best of miracles, convey
Reluctant Man more cruel far than they.

To Tyrants, or pretended Saints, too long Have nations pour'd the tributary song, While bloated malice, leagu'd with childish zeal, Is titled ardor for the public weal: Too long have wild Crusades, yon Statesman's dreams, Fields drench'd in blood, and conquest's distant gleams, Of many a venal Bard employ'd the pen: 'Tis time to rouse, think, speak, and act, like men, For those whom Folly hurries to the snare No more let Fame her blasted wreaths prepare, But weave unfading garlands, tribute due To that sage Chief , whom grateful Senates view, ' Beyond th’ Atlantic ocean, in an age So deeply tinctur’d with Ambition's rage,

* Isaiah, chap. iii. ver. 9, and chap, lxv, ver. 25. + General Washington.

Quitting the helm, while at his mandate close
The gates of Janus, and the tribes répose :
Or to posterity transmit cach deed
Of those who dar'd in Freedom's cause to bleed ;
Him * who in Olmutz' cursed dungeons lay,
By Despots long secluded from the day,
Ere Austria's Eagle, of her plumage shorn,
Left ether's heights, and to the ground was borne.
Or brave Kosciusko, in an evil hour
To Poland lost, while, with gigantic power,
The North's foul Harpy seiz'd her struggling prey ;
Carnage awhile then dimm'd the solar ray,
Till Death, that great avenger, on her Throne
His banner fix'd, and claim'd her for his own.


* La Fayette.


Tuis print, in Europe's general history bound,
With all its Monarchs scepter'd, rob'd, and crown'd,
(Wrought in the graver's broadest, blackest tone,)
Is Catharine, despot of the frozen zone.
But could the pencil mental features trace,
And give as well her spirit as her face,
This plate would stride o'er portraits, books, and maps,
And swallow all my library perhaps.


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