XV.

O language fit for thoughts so bold! Would Britain have her anger told; Ah! never let a meaner language found,

Than that which proftrates human fouls, Through Heaven's dark vault impetuous rolls, And Nature rocks, when angry Jove has frown'd. XVI.

Not realms unbounded, not a flood
Of natives, not expence of blood,

Or reach of counfel gives the world a lord:
Trade calls him forth, and fets him high,
As mortal man, o'er men can fly :

Trade leaves poor gleanings to the keenest sword.

XVII.

Nay, her's the fword! For fleets have wings;
Like lightning fly to diftant kings;

Like Gods defcend at once on trembling ftates:
Is war proclaim'd? Our wars are hurl'd
To fartheft confines of the world,
Surprize your ports, and thunder at your gates.

XVIII.

The king of tempefts, Æolus,

Sends forth his pinion'd people, thus, On rapid errands: as they Ay, they roar,

And carry fable clouds, and freep

The land, the defert, and the deep!

Earth shakes! proud cities fall! and thrones adore!

XIX. The

XIX.

The Fools of Nature ever strike

On bare outfides; and loath, or like, As glitter bids; in endless error vie ; Admire the purple and the crown : Of human welfare and renown,

Trade 's the big heart; bright empire, but their

XX.

eye.

Whence Tartar GRAND? or Mogul GREAT ?— Trade gilt their titles, pour'd their state; While Afric's black, lafcivious, flothful breed, To clafp their rui, fly from toil;

That meanest product on their foil, Their people fell: one half on t'other feed.

XXI.

Of Nature's Wealth from Commerce rent,
Afric's a glaring Monument:

Mid citron forefts and pomegranate groves
(Curft in a paradife !) she pines;
O'er generous glebe, o'er golden mines
Her beggar'd, famish'd, tradelefs native roves:
XXII.

Not fo thine, China, blooming-wide!
Thy numerous fleets might bridge the tide;
Thy products would exhauft both India's mines:
Shut be that gate of Trade! Or woe

To Britain's! Europe 'twill o'erflow.-
Ungrateful fong! Her growth inspires thy lines.

T 4

*

XXIII. Bri

*Coffee.

XXIII.

Britain! To these, and fuch as thefe, The river broad, and foaming feas Which fever lands to mortals lefs renown'd, Devoid of naval skill or might;

Those fever'd parts of earth unite : Trade's the full pulfe, that fends their vigour round.

XXIV.

Could, O! could one engrossing hand
The various ftreams of Trade command,
That, like the fun, would gazing nations awe;
That awful Power the world would brave,

· Bold War, and Empire proud, his slave; Mankind his fubjects; and his Will, their law.

XXV.

Haft thou look'd round the spacious earth? From Commerce, Grandeur's humble birth: To George from Noah, empires living, dead, Their pride, their fhame, their rife, their fall, Time's whole plain chronicle is all

One bright encomium, undefign'd, on Trade.

XXVI.

Trade fprings from Peace, and Wealth from Trade, And Power from Wealth; of Power is made The God on Earth: hail, then, the dove of Peace! Whofe olive speaks the raging flood

Of war reprefs'd: what's lofs of blood?

War is the death of Commerce and Increase.

XXVII.

Then perish War!-Detested War !

Shalt thou make Gods? light Cæfar's ftar?
What calls man fool fo loud as this has done,
From Nimrod's down to Bourbon's line?
Why not adore too, as divine,
Wide-wafting storms, before the genial fun?

XXVIII.

Peace is the Merchant's fummer clear! His harveft! harvest round the year! For Peace with laurel every maft be bound; Each deck caroufe, each flag ftream out, Each cannon found, each failor fhout! For Peace let every facred ship be crown'd!

XXIX.

Sacred are hips, of birth divine!
An angel drew the first defign;

With which the Patriarch Nature's ruins brav'd:

Two worlds aboard, an old and new,

He fafe o'er foaming billows flew :
The Gods made Human race, a Pilot, fav'd.

XXX.

How facred too the Merchant's name! When Britain blaz'd meridian Fame *; Bright fhone the fword, but brighter trade gave law; Merchants in diftant courts rever'd,

Where prouder Statefmen ne'er appear'd, Merchants Embaffadors! and Thrones in awe!

* In Queen Elizabeth's reign.

XXXI. 'Tis

XXVI.

'Tis theirs to know the tides, the times;
The march of ftars; the births of climes;
Summer and Winter theirs; theirs land and sea,
Theirs are the feafons, months, and years;
And each a different garland wears :-
O that my fong could add Eternity!

XXXII.

Praife is the facred oil that feeds The burning lamp of god-like deeds; Immortal glory pays illuftrious cares : Whither, ye Britons! are ye bound? O noble voyage! glorious round! Launch from the Thames, and end among the ftars. XXXIII.

If to my fubject role my foul,

Your fame fhould laft while oceans roll:
When other worlds in depths of time shall rife,
As we the Geeeks of mighty name,
May they Britannia's fleet proclaim,
Look up, and read her story in the skies.

XXXIV.

Ye Syrens, fing; ye Tritons, blow; Ye Nereids, dance; ye Billows, flow; Roll to my measures, O ye Starry Throng! Ye Winds! in concert breathe around; Ye Navies! to the concert bound

From Pole to Pole! To Britain all belong.

THE