Well spent in fuch a ftrife, may earn indeed

And for a time infure to his lov'd land

The sweets of liberty and equal laws;

But martyrs ftruggle for a brighter prize,

And win it with more pain. Their blood is fhed
In confirmation of the nobleft claim,

Our claim to feed upon immortal truth,

To walk with God, to be divinely free,

To foar, and to anticipate the skies.

Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown
Till perfecution dragg'd them into fame,

And chas'd them up to heaven. Their afhes flew
-No marble tells us whither. With their names
No bard embalms and fanctifies his fong;
And History, fo warm on meaner themes,
Is cold on this. She execrates indeed
The tyranny that doom'd them to the fire,
But gives the glorious fuff'rers little praife.*

* See Hume.

He

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,

And all are flaves befide.

There's not a chain

That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm,

Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samfon his green wyths.
He looks abroad into the varied field

Of Nature, and though poor perhaps, compar'd
With those whofe mansions glitter in his fight,
Calls the delightful scen❜ry all his own.

His are the mountains, and the vallies his,
And the refplendent rivers. His t' enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence infpir'd,
Can lift to heav'n an unprefumptuous eye,

And fmiling fay-my Father made them all.
Are they not his by a peculiar right,

And by an emphasis of int'reft his,

Whofe eye they fill with tears of holy joy,

Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love

That

That plann'd, and built, and ftill upholds a worldSo cloath'd with beauty, for rebellious man? Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap The loaded foil, and ye may waste much good In fenfeless riot; but ye will not find In feast or in the chace, in fong or dance, A liberty like his, who unimpeach'd Of ufurpation, and to no man's wrong, Appropriates nature as his father's work, And has a richer use of yours, than you. He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth Of no mean city, plann'd or 'ere the hills Were built, the fountains open'd, or the fea With all his roaring multitude of waves. His freedom is the fame in every state, And no condition of this changeful life, So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day Brings its own evil with it, makes it lefs:

For he has wings that neither fickness, pain,

Nor penury, can cripple or confine.

No nook fo narrow but he fpreads them there,
With ease, and is at large. Th' oppreffor holds
His body bound, but knows not what a range
His fpirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.

Acquaint thyfelf with God, if thou would'st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou waft blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart, Made pure, fhall relish, with divine delight

'Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone

And eyes intent upon the scanty herb

It yields them, or recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate heedlefs of the scene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away
From inland regions to the distant main.
Man views it and admires, but refts content

With what he views. The landscape has his praife,

But not its author.

Unconcern'd who form'd

The paradise he fees, he finds it fuch,

And fuch well-pleas'd to find it, asks no more.

Not fo the mind that has been touch'd from heav'n,
And in the school of facred wifdom taught

To read his wonders, in whose thought the world,
Fair as it is, existed ere it was.

Not for its own fake merely, but for his

Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praife;
Praise that from earth refulting as it ought
To earth's acknowledg'd fov'reign, finds at once
Its only just proprietor in Him.

The foul that fees him, or receives fublim'd
New faculties, or learns at least t' employ
More worthily the pow'rs fhe own'd before;
Difcerns in all things, what with ftupid gaze
Of ignorance till then fhe overlook'd,
A ray of heav'nly light gilding all forms
Terreftrial in the vaft and the minute,

The