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When ministers and ministerial arts ;
Though discontent alone can find out where ;
B. The cause, though worth the search, may yet elude
Supplies with warm activity and force
Born in a climate softer far than ours, Not form'd like us with such Herculean powers, The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of misery far away ; He drinks his simple beverage with a gust; And, feasting on an onion and a crust, We never feel th' alacrity and joy With which he shouts and carols-Vive le Rog, Fillid with as much true merriment and glee, As if he heard his king say-Slave, be free.
Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, Less on exterior things than most suppose.
Vigilant over all that he has made,
A. Freeman and slave, then, if the case be such,
B. No. Freedom has a thousand charms to show, That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. The mind attains, beneath her happy reign, The growth that nature meant she should attain ; The varied fields of science, ever new, Opening and wider opening on her view, She ventures onward with a prosperous force, While no base fear impedes her in her course : Religion, richest favour of the skies, Stands most reveal'd before the freeman's eyes ; No shades of superstition blot the day, Liberty chases all that gloom away ; The soul, emancipated, unoppressid, Free to prove all things, and hold fast the best, Learns much ; and, to a thousand listening minds, Communicates with joy the good she finds ;
Valiant in arms, and ever prompt to show His manly forehead to the fiercest foe; Glorious in war, but for the sake of peace, . His spirits rising as his toils increase,, Guards well what arts and industry have won, And freedom claims him for her first-born son. Slaves fight for what were better cast awayThe chain that binds them, and a tyrant's sway ;' But they, that fight for freedom, undertake The noblest cause mankind can have at stake :. Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call A blessing—freedom is the pledge of all. O liberty! the prisoner's pleasing dream, The poet's muse, his passion, and his theme ; Genius is thine, and thou art fancy's nurse ; Lost, without thee, th' ennobling powers of verse ; Heroic song, from thy free touch, acquires Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires ; Place me where winter breathes his keenest air, And I will sing, if liberty be there ; And I will sing, at liberty's dear feet, In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fiercest heat.
A. Sing where you please ; in such a cause I grant ] An English poet's privilege to rant ; But is not freedom--at least, is not ours Too apt to play the wanton with her powers, Grow freakish, and, o’erleaping every mound, Spread anarchy and terror all around ?
B. Agreed. But, would you sell or slay, your horse, For bounding and curvetting in his course ;
Or if, when ridden with a careless rein,
Let discipline employ her wholesome arts ;
Incomparable gem! thy worth untold ; (sold ; Cheap, though blood bought ; and thrown away when May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend Betray thee, while professing to defend ; Prize it, yè ministers ; ye monarchs, spare ; Ye patriote, guard it with a miser's care.