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To reverence what is ancient, and can plead . A course of long observance for its use, That even servitude, the worst of ills, Because delivered down from sire to son, Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. But is it fit, or can it bear the shock Of rational discussion, that a man, Compounded and made up like other men Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust As folly in as ample measure meet, And in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, i Should be a despot absolute, and boast Himself the only freeman of his land ? Should, when he pleases, and on whom he will, Wage war, with any or with no pretence Of provocation given, or wrong sustained, And force the beggarly last doit by means, That his own humour dictates, from the clutch Of Poverty, that thus he may procure His thousands, weary of penurious life, A splendid opportunity to die? Say ye, who (with less prudence than of old Jotham ascribed to his assembling trees In politic convention) put your trust I'th' shadow of a bramble, and reclined In fancied peace beneath his dangerous branch, Rejoice in' him, and celebrate his sway, Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence springs Your self-denying zeal, that holds it good, To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang His thorns with streamers of continual praise :

Vol. 11.

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We too are friends to loyalty.. We love
The king, who loves the law, respects his bounds
And reigns content within them: him we serve
Freely and with delight, who leaves us free:
But 'recollecting still, that he is man,
We trust him not too far. King though he be,
And king in England too, he may be weak,
And vain enough to be ambitious still ;
May exercise amiss his proper powers,
Or covet more than freemen choose to grant :
Beyond that mark is treason. He is ours,
T'administer, to guard, t' adorn, the state,
But not to warp or change it. We are his,
To serve him nobly in the common cause,
True to the death, but not to be his slaves.
Mark now the difference, ye that boast your love
of kings, between your loyalty and ours.
We love the man, the paltry pageant you :
We the chief patron of the commonwealth,
You the regardless author of its woes :
We for the sake of liberty a king, .
You chains and bondage for a tyrant's sake.
Our love is principle, and has its root
In reason, is judicious, manly, free;
Yours, a blind instinct, crouches to the rod,
And licks the foot that treads it in the dust.
Were kingship as true treasure as it seems,
Sterling, and worthy of a wise man's wish,
I would not be a king to be beloved
Causeless, and daubed with undiscerning praise,
Where love is mere attachment to the throne,
Not to the man, wbo fills it as he ought.


There's not an English heart that would not leap To hear that ye were fallen at last ; to know That e'en our enemies, so oft employed In forging chains for us, themselves were free. For he, who values Liberty, confines' His zeal for her predominance within No narrow bounds; her cause engages him Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. There dwell the most forlorn of humankind, Immured though unaccused, condemned untried, Cruelly spared, and hopeless of escape. There, like the visionary emblem seen By him of Babylon, life stands a stump, And, filletted about with hoops of brass, Still lives, though all his pleasant boughs are gone To count the hour-bell and expect no change; And ever, as the sollen sound is heard, Still to reflect, that, though a joyless note To him, whose moments all have one dull pace, Ten thousand rovers in the world at large Account it music; that it summons some To theatre, ort jocund feast or ball; The wearied hireling finds it a release From labour; and the lover, who has chid Its long delay, feels every welcome stroke Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delightTo fly for refuge from distracting thought To such amusements as ingenious wo Contrives, hard-shifting, and without her tools To read engraven on the mouldy walls, In staggering types, his predecessor's tale,


A sad memorial, and subjoin his own-
To turn purveyor to an overgorged
And bloated spider, till the pampered pest
Is made familiar, watches his approach,
Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend
To wear out time in numbering to and fro
The studs, that thick emboss his iron door;
Then downward and then upward, then aslant
And then alternate ; with a sickly hope
By dint of change to give his tasteless task
Some relish ; till the sum, exactly found
In all directions, he begins again-
Oh comfortless existence! hemmed around ..
With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel
And beg for exile, or the pangs of death ?
That man should thus encroach on fellow man,
Abridge him of his just and native rights,
Eradicate him, tear him from his hold
Upon the endearments of domestic life
And social, nip his fruitfulness and use,
And doom him for perhaps a heedless word
To barrenness, and solitude, and tears,
Moves indignation, makes the name of king
(Of king whom such prerogative can please)
As dreadful as the Manichean god.
Adored through fear, strong only to destroy.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of Meeting life its lustre and perfume ;
And we are weeds without it. All constraint,
Except what wisdom lays, on evil men,
Is evil : hurts the faculties, impedes

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