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and ancient title to the seas. Who rivals her. Of
Venice. Holland. Some despise trade as mean; cen-
sured for it. Trade'sglory. The late Czar. Solomon.
A surprising instance of magnificence. The mera
chant's dignity. Compared with men of letters.
Strain IV. Pindar invoked. His praise. Britain should
decline war, but boldly assert her trade. Encouraged
from the throne. Britain's condition without trade.
Trade's character, and surprising deeds. Carthage.
Solomon's temple. St. Paul's church. The miser's
character. The wonderful effects of trade. Why re-
ligion recommended to the merchant. What false joy.
What true. What religion is to the Merchant. Why
trade more glorious in Britons than others. How
warmly and how long to be pursued by us. The Bri-
ton's legacy. Columbus. His praise. America de-
scribed. Worlds still unknown. Queen Elizabeth,
King George II.; his glory navally represenied.
Strain V. What is the bound of Britain's power. Be-
yond that of the most famed in history. The sign
Lyra. What the constellations are. Argo. The
Whale. The Dolphin. Eridanus. The Lion. Libra.
Virgo. Berenice. The British ladies censured. The
Moon. What the sea is. Apostrophe to the Em-
peror. The Spanish Armada! How Britain should
speak her resentment. What gives power. What
natives do in war. The Tartar. Mogu!. Africa. China,
Who master of the world. What the history of the
world is. The genealogy of glory. Mistakes about it.
Peace the Merchanı's harvest. Ships of divine origin,
Merchants ambassadors. The Britou's voyage. Praise
the food of glory. Britain's record.
The most happy should be the most virtuous. Ofeter-
nity. What Britain's art should be. Whence slavery.
This subject now first sung. How sung. Preferable to
Pindar's subject, How Britain should be sung by all.
On the British trade and navigation.
TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF CHANDOS.
σιν εντι προσοδοι, ,
νασον ευκλεα ταν-
PIND. NEM. Ode vi.
Fast by the surge my limbs are spread,
The naval oak nods o'er my head,
The winds are loud, the waves tumult'ous roll;
Ye winds ! indulge your rage no more;
Ye sounding billows cease to roar:
The god descends, and transports warm my soul.
The waves are hushid, the winds are spent;
This kingdom, from the kingdoms rent,
I celebrate in song. Famid Isle ! no less,
By Nature's favour, from mankind,
Than by the foaming sea disjoin'd;
Alone in bliss! an işle in happiness!
Tho' Fate and Time have damp'd my strains,
Tho' youth no longer fires my veins,
Thoslow their streams in this cold climate run,
The royal eye dispels my cares,
Recalls the warmth of blooming years;
Returning George supplies the distant sun,
Away, my Soul! salute the Pine, *
That glads the heart of Caroline,
Its grand deposit faithful to restore;
Salute the bark that ne'er should hold
So rich a freight in gems or gold,
And loaded from both Indies would be poor.
My Soul! to thee she spreads her sails;
Their bosoms fill with sacred gales;
With inspiration from the Godhead warm;
Now bound for an eternal clime,
O send her down the tide of time,
Snatch'd from oblivion, and secure from storm.
Or teach this flag like that to soar,
Which gods of old and heroes bore;
Bid her a British constellation rise-------
The sea she scorns; and now shall bound
Øn lofty billows of sweet sound:
I am her pilot, and her part the skies!
The vessel in which the King came over.
Dare you to sing, ye twinkling Train!
Silence, ye Wretched! ye Profane !
Who shackle prose, and boast of absent gods;
Who murder thought, and numbers maim,
Who write Pindaricks cold and lame,
And labour stiff Anacreontic odes.
Ye lawful sons of Genius, rise!
Of genuine title to the skies;
Ye founts of Learning! and ye mints of Fame!
You who file off the mortal part
Of glowing thought with Attic art,
And drink pure song from Cam's or Isis' stream.
I glow, I burn! the numbers pure,
High-flavour'd, delicate, mature,
Spontaneous stream from my unlabour'd breast;
As when full-ripen'd teems the vine,
The gen'rous bursts of willing wine
Distil nectareous from the grape unpress'd,
“Our monarch comes ! nor comes alone!"
What shining forms surround his throne,
O sun! as planets thee. To my loud strain
See Peace, by Wisdom led, advance;
The Grace, the Muse, the Season, dance!
And Plenty spreads behind her flowing train
Go Our monarch comes! nor comes alone!"
New glories kindle round his throne.
The visions rise! I triumph as I gaze,
By Pindar led, I turn'd of late
The volume dark, the folds of Fate,
And now am present to the future blaze.
By George and Jove it is decreed,
The mighty Months in pomp proceed,
Fair daughters of the Sun !----0 thou divine,
Bless'd Industry! a smiling earth
From thee alone derives its birth;
By thee the ploughshare and its master shine.
From thee, mast, cable, anchor, oar,
From thee the cannon, and his roar;
On oaks nurs'd, rear'd by thee, wealth, empire grows,
O golden fruit! oak well might proye
The sacred tree, the tree of Jove;
All Joye can give the naval oak bestows.
What cannot Industry complete ?
When punic war first flạm'd, the great,
Bold, active, ardent Roman Fathers meet:
“ Fell all your groves,” a Flamen cries;
As soon they fall, as soon they rise ;
One moon a forest, and the next a fleet.
* L. Florys.