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النشر الإلكتروني

Oh let not then wafte luxury impair

That manly foul of toil, which ftrings your nerves,
And your own proper happiness creates !

Oh let not the foft, penetrating plague

Creep on the free-born mind; and working there,
With the sharp tooth of many a new-form'd want,
Endless, and idle all, eat out the heart
Of Liberty; the high conception blast;
The noble fentiment, th' impatient fcorn
Of base subjection, and the swelling wish
For gen'ral good, erazing from the mind:
While nought fave narrow selfishness fucceeds,
And low defign, the fneaking paffions all
Let loofe, and reigning in the rankled breaft.
Induc'd at last, by fcarce-perceiv'd degrees,
Sapping the very frame of government,
And life, a total diffolution comes;
Sloth, ignorance, dejection, flatt'ry, fear.
Oppreffion raging o'er the wafte he makes;
The human being almoft quite extinct;

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And the whole state in broad corruption finks.
Oh fhun that gulf: that gaping ruin fhun!
And countless ages roll it far away

From you, ye heav'n-belov'd! may liberty,
The light of life! the fun of human-kind!
Whence heroes, bards, and patriots borrow flame,
Ev'n where the keen depreffive north descends,
Still spread, exalt, and actuate your pow'rs!
While flavifh fouthern climates beam in vain.
And may a public fpirit from the throne,

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Where ev'ry virtue fits, go copious forth
Live o'er the land! the finer arts inspire;
Make thoughtful Science raise his penfive head,
Blow the fresh bay, bid Industry rejoice,
And the rough sons of lowest Labour smile.
As when, profufe of fpring, the loofen'd Weft
Lifts up the pining year, and balmy breathes
Youth, life, and love, and beauty o'er the world.
But hafte we from these melancholy fhores, 285
Nor to deaf winds, and waves, our fruitlefs plaint
Pour weak; the country claims our active aid;
That let us roam; and where we find a spark
Of public virtue, blow it into flame.

Lo! now my fons, the fons of freedom! meet 290
In awful fenate; thither let us fly;

Burn in the patriot's thought, flow from his tongue
In fearless truth; myself, transform'd, prefide,
And shed the spirit of Britannia round.

This faid; her fleeting form, and airy train, 295
Sunk in the gale; and nought but ragged rocks
Rufh'd on the broken eye; and nought was heard
But the rough cadence of the dashing wave.

ANCIENT AND MODERN

ITALY

COMPARED :

Being the FIRST PART of

LIBERTY,

A

PO E M.

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