Would beat th'infantine shrubs of Genius down.

By your kind sanction, spur'd to nobler aims,
Our country, now, the Muses' tribute claims:
When o'er fair Albion war destructive lours,
Oh! be those Patriot feelings ever ours,
Which from the public mind spontaneous burst
On that infuriate foe, by crimes accurst,
Who'd o'er our envied isle his vassals send,
And all the land with dire convulsions rend.
Well! let their armies come, their locusts pour,
Each British heart shall welcome them on shore,
Each British hand is arm'd in Britain's cause,
To guard their birth-right, liberty, and laws,
Rise! Britons, rise! attend fair freedom's cry,
The wretch who meanly fears deserves to die.
His kind protection 'gainst each latent foe,
Still may that Pow'r Omnipotent bestow,
Which first Britannia's sov'reign flag unfurl'd
So high, it flames a beacon to the World!





THE BEGGAR.


Of late I saw him on his staff reclin'd,
Bow'd down beneath a weary weight of woes,