Here, in vast flocks, the fleecy nation strays, Here, endless herds the upland meadow graze, Here smiling plenty crowns the labourer's pain And blooming beauty weds the industrious swain:
Were this thy all, what happier state could be!— But avarice drives the native to the sea, Fictitious wants all thoughts of ease controul, Proud Independence sways the aspiring soul,
‘ Midst foreign waves, a stranger to repose, Through the moist world the keen adventurer goes; Not India's seas restrain his daring sail, Far to the south he seeks the polar whale:
From those vast banks where frequent tempests rave, And fogs eternal brood upon the wave, There ( furled his sail ) his daring hold he keeps, Drags from their depths the natives of those deeps;
Then to some distant clime explores his way, Bold avarice spurs him on — he must obey. Yet from such aims one great effect we trace That holds in happier bonds this restless race;
Like some deep lake, by circling shores comprest, Man's nature tends to universal rest: Unfed by springs, that find some secret pass To mix their current with the mightier mass,
Unmoved by moons, that some strange impulse guides To lift its waters, and propel its tides, Unvext by winds, that scowl across its waste, Tear up the wave, and discompose its breast,
Soon would that lake ( a putrid nuisance grown,) Lose all its virtue, praised or prized by none: Thus, avarice lends new vigour to mankind, Not vainly planted in the unsteady mind;
With her, Ambition linked, they proudly drive, Rule all our race, and keep the world alive. Here, first, to quench her once loved Freedom's flame, With their proud fleets, Britannia's warriors came;
Here, sure to conquer, she began her fires, Here, sent her lords, her admirals, and her squires: All, all too weak to effect the vast design For which we saw half Europe's arms combine,
Uncounted navies rove from main to main, Threats, bribery, treachery — tried and tried again; Mandate on mandate, edict, and decree, To rivet fetters, and enslave the free!
Long, long from Boston's hills shall strangers gaze On those vast mounds that magic seemed to raise; Stupendous piles that hastened Britain's flight, Extended hills, the offspring of a night!—
In that devoted town they hoped to stay And, fed by rapine, sleep soft years away: Vain hopes, vain schemes — the unconquered spirit rose That still survived through all succeeding woes;
Imprisoned crowds, in cruel durance held, Disarmed, restrained from honour's earliest field; Imprisoned thousands, worn with poignant grief, Now, half adoring, met their guardian chief,
Whose thundering cannon bade the foe retreat, Disgrace their portion, and their rout complete.
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