With rapid wing her riches fled away;

Her unfrequented ports alone the sign

Of what she was; her merchants scatter'd wide;
Her hollow shops shut up; and in her streets,

Her fields, woods, markets, villages, and roads,
The cheerful voice of Labour heard no more.
"O, let not then waste Luxury impair

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That manly soul of toil which strings your nerves,
And your own proper happiness creates !

O, let not the soft, penetrating plague

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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 sentiment, the' impatient scorn
Of base subjection, and the swelling wish
For general good, erasing from the mind;
While nought save narrow selfishness succeeds,
And low design; the sneaking passions all

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Let loose, and reigning in the rankled breast.

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Induced at last by scarce-perceived degrees,
Sapping the very frame of government
And life, a total dissolution comes,-
Sloth, ignorance, dejection, flattery, fear;
Oppression raging o'er the waste he makes;
The human being almost quite extinct;

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And the whole state in broad corruption sinks.
O, shun that gulf, that gaping ruin shun!
And countless ages roll it far away

From you, ye heaven-beloved! May Liberty,
The light of life, the sun of human-kind,

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Whence heroes, bards, and patriots borrow flame,

Even where the keen depressive North descends,
Still spread, exalt, and actuate your powers,

While slavish southern climates beam in vain!

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And may a public spirit from the throne,

Where every virtue sits, go copious forth,

Live o'er the land, the finer arts inspire,

Make thoughtful Science raise his pensive head,
Blow the fresh bay, bid Industry rejoice,
And the rough sons of lowest Labour smile:
As when, profuse of spring, the loosen'd West
Lifts up the pining year, and balmy breathes

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Youth, life, and love, and beauty o'er the world.
"But haste we from these melancholy shores,
Nor to deaf winds and waves our fruitless 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.

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Lo! now my sons, the sons of freedom, meet

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In awful senate: thither let us fly,

Burn in the patriot's thought, flow from his tongue

In fearless truth; myself, transform'd, preside,

And shed the spirit of BRITANNIA round."

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

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LIBERTY:

A POEM, IN FIVE PARTS.

SIR,

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES.

WHEN I reflect upon that ready condescension, that preventing generosity, with which your Royal Highness received the following poem under your protection; I can alone ascribe it to the recommendation and influence of the subject. In you the cause and concerns of Liberty have so zealous a patron, as entitles whatever may have the least tendency to promote them, to the distinction of your favour. And who can entertain this delightful reflection without feeling a pleasure far superior to that of the fondest author, and of which all true lovers of their country must participate? To behold the noblest dispositions of the prince and of the patriot united; an overflowing benevolence, generosity, and candour of heart, joined to an enlightened zeal for Liberty, an intimate persuasion that on it depends the happiness and glory both of kings and people; to see these shining out in public virtues, as they have hitherto smiled in all the social lights and private accomplishments of life; -is a prospect that cannot but inspire a general sentiment of satisfaction and gladness, more easy to be felt than expressed.

If the following attempt to trace Liberty, from the first ages down to her excellent establishment in Great Britain, can at all merit your approbation, and prove an entertainment to your Royal Highness; if it can in any degree answer the dignity of the subject, and of the name under which I presume to shelter it; I have my best reward; particularly as it affords me an opportunity of declaring that I am, with the greatest zeal and respect, Sir,

Your Royal Highness's most obedient

and most devoted Servant, JAMES THOMSON.

P

LIBERTY.

PART I.

ANCIENT AND MODERN ITALY COMPARED.

CONTENTS.

The following Poem is thrown into the form of a poetical Vision-Its scene, the ruins of ancient Rome-The Goddess of Liberty, who is supposed to speak through the whole, appears, characterized as British Liberty-Gives a view of ancient Italy, and particularly of republican Rome, in all her magnificence and glory-This contrasted by modern Italy; its valleys, mountains, culture, cities, people: the difference appearing strongest in the capital city, Rome-The ruins of the great works of Liberty more magnificent than the borrowed pomp of Oppression; and from them revived Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture-The old Romans apostrophized with regard to the several melancholy changes in Italy: Horace, Tully, and Virgil, with regard to their Tibur, Tusculum, and NaplesThat once finest and most ornamented part of Italy, all along the coast of Baiæ, how changed-This desolation of Italy applied to Britain-Address to the Goddess of Liberty, that she would deduce from the first ages her chief establishments, the description of which constitutes the subject of the following parts of this poem-She assents, and commands what she says to be sung in Britain; whose happiness, arising from freedom and a limited monarchy, she marks -An immediate Vision attends, and paints her words-Invocation.

O MY lamented TALBOT! while with thee
The Muse gay roved the glad Hesperian round,
And drew the' inspiring breath of ancient arts,
Ah! little thought she her returning verse
Should sing our darling subject to thy shade.
And does the mystic veil from mortal beam
Involve those eyes where every virtue smiled,
And all thy father's candid spirit shone?—
The light of reason, pure, without a cloud;

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Full of the generous heart, the mild regard;
Honour disdaining blemish, cordial faith,
And limpid truth, that looks the very soul.
But to the death of mighty nations turn,
My strain; be there absorb'd the private tear.
Musing I lay, warm from the sacred walks
Where at each step imagination burns;
While, scatter'd wide around, awful and hoar,
Lies, a vast monument, once-glorious Rome,
The tomb of empire; ruins that efface
Whate'er of finish'd modern pomp can boast!

Snatch'd by these wonders to that world where thought Unfetter'd ranges, Fancy's magic hand

Led me anew o'er all the solemn scene,

Still in the mind's pure eye more solemn dress'd;

When straight, methought, the fair majestic Power
Of Liberty appear'd. Not, as of old,
Extended in her hand the cap, and rod,
Whose slave-enlarging touch gave double life;
But her bright temples bound with British oak,
And naval honours nodded on her brow.
Sublime of port: loose o'er her shoulder flow'd
Her sea-green robe, with constellations gay.
An island-goddess now; and her high care
The queen of isles, the mistress of the main.
My heart beat filial transport at the sight;
And, as she moved to speak, the' awaken'd Muse
Listen'd intense. Awhile she look'd around,
With mournful eye the well-known ruins mark'd;
And then, her sighs repressing, thus began:-

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"Mine are these wonders, all thou seest is mine; But ah, how changed the falling, poor remains Of what exalted once the' Ausonian shore.

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Look back through time; and, rising from the gloom,
Mark the dread scene, that paints whate'er I say.
"The great republic see, that glow'd sublime

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With the mix'd freedom of a thousand states,
Raised on the thrones of kings her curule chair,
And by her fasces awed the subject world.
See busy millions quickening all the land,
With cities throng'd, and teeming culture high:
For Nature then smiled on her free-born sons,
And pour'd the plenty that belongs to men.

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