Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; How much unlike the sons of Britain now! Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring; Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspes glide. There all around the gentlest breezes stray, There gentle music melts on every spray; Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd, Extremes are only in the master's mind! Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great, Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by, Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand; Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagin'd right, above control, While ev❜n the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man. Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here, Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear; Too bless'd, indeed, were such without alloy, But foster'd ev'n by Freedom, ills annoy: That independence Britons prize too high, Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown; Here by the bonds of nature feebly held, Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd. Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, Repress'd ambition struggles round her shore, Till over-wrought, the general system feels Its motions stop, or phrenzy fires the wheels. (C) HC XLI Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown; And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die. Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, By proud contempt, or favour's fostering sun, For just experience tells, in every soil, That those who think must govern those that toil; O then how blind to all that earth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast-approaching danger warms: But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own, When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law; The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam, Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour, Even now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays And all around distressful yells arise, Casts a long look where England's glories shine, Vain, very vain, my weary search to find Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, 312 ROBERT GRAHAM OF GARTMORE IF DOUGHTY DEEDS IF doughty deeds my lady please Thy picture at my heart; And he that bends not to thine eye Shall rue it to his smart! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; O tell me how to woo thee! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take If gay attire delight thine eye I'll dight me in array; I'll tend thy chamber door all night, If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, 313 Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysell, That voice that nane can match. But if fond love thy heart can gain, Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, For you alone I ride the ring, For you O tell me how to woo! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; ADAM AUSTIN [1726(?)-1774] FOR LACK OF GOLD FOR lack of gold she's left me, O, And to endless woe she has left me, O. For empty titles we must part, And for glittering show she's left me, O. No cruel fair shall ever move My injured heart again to love; |