When her refulgent glory, bursting forth,
The dank, dark, lowering vapours of the earth
Scatters to east and west, a risen sun.
Then Britons shall be free, then see again
Their laws, their rights, their freedom uninfring'd.
Thus British virtue, and a British queen,
To reason's voice obedient, and to God,
Join'd in the cause of liberty and man.
Spain's despot saw, but harden'd at the sight,
Seeing saw not, for tyranny is blind,
Blind e'en to its own interest, for would
The tyrant measure his ambitious views,
By what a patient people could endure,
And there suspend his plans, until at length
Inur'd to evil they could bear yet more;
He might continue heaping crime on crime,
Till, like the purpled despot of the east,
He place his foot upon their lowly necks,
And they shall call it honour. Such is man
Creature of time, and place, and circumstance;
Such too, so various, and so manifold
The ways of him, who out of slavery
Educeth freedom; out of evil, good.
But few there are who know them, and those few
So wrapt in their intrinsick excellence,
Their mental eye so dazzled at the sight
It shall stand. Prophecies have more than once caused the
Νῦν ἔλπομαι μέν· ἐν Θεῷ γε μὰν
Of the sublime, the beautiful, the good,
That human to celestial yields the palm,
And, angel-like, they see but to adore.
Hence then let virtue not despair, but learn
From Philip's fall, how weak the tyrant's arts. 145
For now, enrag'd to madness, when he saw
A British queen, and Sidney's arm uprais'd
To aid Batavia, two different ways
His proud soul ponder'd, whether by open war,
To assail his foes, or else by covert guile,
And treachery to compass his designs.
Thus rapt in anxious thought the despot stood,
Weighing how most to scourge the human race:
Him, not unheeded, thus fraternal zeal
Accosted; cursed pair, ready alike
To blast man's full-grown virtues, or to nip
The bud of freedom ere it rise to light;
"If e'er thy royal cares fraternal love
Hath sooth'd, if e'er thy heated mind been calm'd
By him, whom equal hopes, and equal fears
Have join'd in strictest union with thyself;
Now pour thy burthen'd soul into that breast
Which knows no will but thine. Too much I fear
147. Sidney-The accomplished sir Philip Sidney, of whom that celebrated anecdote is told. "After the battle of Zutphen, while he was lying on the field mangled with wounds, a bottle of water was brought him to relieve his thirst; but observing a soldier near him in a like miserable condition, he said; This man's necessity is still greater than mine;' and resigned to him the bottle of water." Encyc. Britan. The story is somewhat differently told in Watkins's Biograph. Dict.
That England's haughty monarch, trampling down The laws of nations, dares to join her arms
To those of our proud foe; rebellion
In England's monarch finds an advocate;
But think not Heaven looks on such misdeeds
With kind benignant aspect; rather say
It lowers in threatening storms. Britain shall rue The day it joins in continental war ;
Already have my emissaries sown
Rebellion's seed in Ireland, there 't will quicken,
And ripen into harvest; we meanwhile,
The royal license given, will succeed
To D'Alva's agency, and thus perchance
By well-dissembled acts of courtesy
Entrap our wary foe within that net
From whence he ne'er escapes, for who, that asks Whether by guile, or force, an enemy
Succeed; enough it is for us to know
That William is our foe. My liege! you have
What I advise; whatever else may suit
The present circumstance, whether by war
Maritime, or continental, to distress
England's proud monarch, and to aid the cause
Of kings, and lawful government, befits
Thy royal wisdom, and that depth of mind,
Which Heaven indulgent grants the best of kings."
Scarce had he ended, when with eager haste,
Like the fond mother, who with open arms
Receives her son return'd from distant school,
Aud knows not to desist, while from her eyes
With eager haste flew to his brother's arms,
And there in silent transport fixed hung,
Until at length words thus found out their
"Belov'd of brothers! Best of subjects! Friend,
Dear as the light of day! Had Heaven bestow'd
One more like thee, not all Eliza's threats,
Nor William's vaunts could ruffle this proud soul.
But hence despair! The brave man knows thee not,
Thou art the coward's refuge; Spain and Philip
Yield to no earthly power; for though his foes
Were countless as the sands that circle round
The torrid Libya's long-extended coast,
Philip would meet them; hear then our resolve;
Soon as the watchful Hours shall have remov'd
The clouds of darkness from the eastern sky,
Haste thou to Holland, there assume our power 210
Supreme, without control; in thee we place
That confidence thy wisdom, and thy worth
Justly deserve; there wage or open war
Against those hereticks, or else insnare
With covert guile, as to thy wisdom seems;
For holy church knows no communion
Of virtue, or of faith with infidels.
This shall proud England's heresiarchal queen
By suffering know, and dread again to raise
Against the chosen servants of the Highest,
Her heretick arm; for this our private cause
Will be the cause of God, and holy church.
Already do I see my armaments,
Bless'd by the pious Father, and pronounc'd
Invincible, triumphant plough the waves;
Already Spain's proud banners float on high
Streams to the passing breeze; while father Thames
Flows by with conscious gratitude, and hails
The long-lost emblem. But enough of words, 230
We must proceed to deeds; you to your charge,
I to the holy Father; when again
We meet, we meet triumphant o'er our foes."
He ended; and the winds his vaunts, and threats
Bore to the vast Atlantick. Gracious God!
How blind is man! How incompatible
With reason, or with virtue, are his acts!
He asks for wealth; give him Potosi's mines,
He asks yet more. Seeks he dominion?
Grant him an empire, he is not content,
But must be despot. Asks he happiness?
Make him the happiest, he is still the same
And would be happier. Thus discontent
Hovers with dusky wing o'er all his deeds. :
O gold! O cursed gold! There is scarce one,
Or vice, or sin, or crime, but springs from thee.
Thou art the cause direct, or indirect,
Of every earthly woe. 'Tis most to thee,
That e'en our passions owe their headstrong rage:
Man from his Maker's hands proceeded pure, 250
Thy glittering follies taught him to love wrong.
But haste, my Muse! Speed on thy rapid course
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