Classic Poem

TO THE GENIUS OF BRITAIN .

Come , genial spirit, to the earnest call
Of the true patriot! wheresoe'er thou art,
O! mark the summons! whether airy borne
In hasty progress, pleas'd, thou skimm'st the edge
Of the white bulwark; from the steepy height
Kenning the azure wave, thy own domain:
While on the pebbled shore, scarce heard so high,
The surf breaks foaming. In the distant view
Full frequent pass the womby labourers
Of Commerce, or the gaily floating pride
Of naval armament. Or whether deep
In midland occupation glad thou seest
The various labours of the cheerful loom:
Or Agriculture, whistling at the plough:
Whether the anvil-notes engage thy stay,
(Though dissonant, yet music to the ear
Of him who knows his country;) or the hum
Of the thick-crowded burse; come and attend
To Britain's general good! 'Tis not the shout,
The din of Clamour, drunk with factious rage,
That hails thee; nor the well-dissembling tongue
Of mask'd Sedition, whose envenom'd rant
Urges the crowd to madness. Not to these
List heedful. 'Tis the cool persuasive voice
Of Reason woos. — Quick then, with brightest smiles
Of mild Humanity, adorn thy cheek:
Straight o'er the' Atlantic surge, with anxious haste,
Seek out thy pensive daughter; — once as dear,
And closely twining round thy milky breast,
As was Augusta's self. — Yet now estrang'd —
Unhappily estrang'd! O by the hand
Take the fair Mourner; from her tearful eye
Wipe the dim cloud of sorrow; — to the throne
Present her reconciling. — 'Tis a boon,
Most glorious boon, that to our latest sons
Will render thy soft influence doubly dear.
Look back, unmov'd by prejudice, look back
To Memory's mirror. Pictur'd there, we see
The happy times of Concord; when the arm
Of Manufacture plied the busy task
In various employment: — through the eye
Beam'd Cheerfulness, while all around her sons
Glad Industry pour'd forth from Plenty's horn
Abundant wealth: — hence to the crowded port
Pass, Thought; and mark the ants of Commerce store
The spacious hold; light ran the toilsome day,
Cheer'd by the hope of honest recompense.
The bark unmoor'd, see how the festive crew
Urg'd on her speedy course; not sad to quit
Their native soil, for in those happier days
America was home. There on the shore
Stood Expectation: friendly by her side
Smil'd Hospitality, with open breast,
Pleas'd to receive the sea-beat traveller:
Cherish'd, enrich'd, that traveller return'd
Blessing his double country. — These thy sweets,
Fraternal intercourse! But ah! how chang'd,
How sadly chang'd is now the present scene,
Pregnant with future griefs! in sullen state
Beneath the gloomy roofs dull Silence reigns,
Which erst in better times, resounded quick
With strokes of active business: at the forge,
Extinct, in pensive poverty the smith
Desponding leans, incapable to earn
The morrow's morsel, while with craving eye
Look up the wife and child, but look in vain,
Faint with despair. — O'er the deserted loom
The spider forms her web, poor evidence
Of human sloth or want. — Fain would the Muse
Suppress the mournful truth; yet forc'd to tell,
She weeps while she relates — How are they fall'n,
The sons of Labour, from their prosperous state
Degraded! How, alas! the crowded jail
Swarms with inhabitants, that once had hope
Of fairer evenings to their toilsome morn!
Fill'd is each cell of sorrow and of pain
With daily victims: — debtors part, entomb'd
While living, and condemn'd to linger on
To life's last ebb, unpitied, unreliev'd.
Part felons, stamp'd the foes of social life
By Penury's rough hand, and driven to roam
The spoilers of the wealthy. — To distress
Abandon'd, scarce the ruin'd mind perceives
Its own peculiar sorrows; but sinks down
The creditor's fix'd prey — or to the law
Submits the needful sacrifice. — Sad fate
Of those, whom Heaven design'd their country's boast,
The artizans of skill! — Nor on the banks
Of venerable Thames does woe preside
Less perilous; — Thames, the prolific sire
Of Britain's wealth: along his winding shores,
Unoccupied, moor'd to destructive sloth,
Whole fleets lie perishing: a forest, true,
But still a blasted forest: gloomy stalks
The unshipp'd mariner, and meditates.
On foreign service. — Should some child of Hope,
Lur'd by the pleasing retrospect, once more
Spread his broad sail across the well-known sea;
Should he, amidst the wonders of the deep,
Give way to Fancy's dream, and fondly trust
To meet his wonted greeting: how recoils
The visionary voyage! — Not on the beach
Sit waiting Love and Amity to grasp
His hand, and lead him to their open bower.
No thronging crowds his proffer'd mart attend
With various traffic: — fled — affrighted — fled
Are all the little deities, that once,
Kind, o'er the social and commercial board
Hung hovering: in their room, sad change! appear
Stern Resolution, stoic Stubbornness,
And Independence; — in his hand each holds
His weapon, jealous of the passing breeze,
And deaf to ancient friendship. — In this pause,
This solemn pause, that halts 'tween peace and war,
O fly, bless'd spirit, in the royal ear
Whisper forgiveness; — midst the high behests
Of justice, let our ever-gracious Sire
Forget not mercy; — 'tis the brightest gem
That decks the monarch's crown: nor thou, great George,
Disdain the Muse's prayer; most loyal she,
In mild subjection down the tide of life,
Steers her light skiff. — Urg'd by the plaintive call
Of meek Humanity, O! pardon, now
If warm she pleads her cause. — The savage race,
That prowl the desart, or that range the wood,
Are won to tameness by the' attentive care
Of the kind gentle keeper. — Shame not man;
Nor say his heart's more fell: — 'Tis easier far
To soothe by tenderness, than awe by pow'r,
Quit then the bloody purpose, nor persist
To conquer when the field is fairer gain'd
By reconciling. — To the' ungrateful toil
Commission'd, shuddering beats the soldier's heart,
Not so, when from the plough in eager haste,
Rous'd by the call to arms, the shouting bands
Rush'd emulous, reluctant none, nor held
By loves or home; — each burning to supply
The waste of war, and anxious to advance
The common glory. — Spiritless now and sad
Embark the destin'd troops: the veteran brave,
That dauntless bore the variegated woes
Of long-protracted war: — the veteran brave,
That won on many a plain the bloody palm
Of Victory, amidst the dying groans
Of slaughter'd thousands firmly undismay'd;
Now hangs in tender thought his honest front,
Averse to slay his brother: — at the word,
(Awful, yet sacred to his patient ear)
He lifts indeed the steel, while down his cheek
The big drop flows, nor more he dreads the wound
That bores his vitals, than the stroke he gives.
Say therefore, " Sword be sheath'd," — fair in the sky,
Now cloudy, then the dawn of joy will spread
Its warm reviving ray — and every eye
That's misty now with sorrow, will grow bright,
And smile away its tears: the sunny beam
Of mild returning confidence will cheer
The kindred countries: — Commerce, on her couch
Now drooping wounded, then will rear her head,
Charm'd into health; — and from her various store
Will cull the sweetest flowers, and form a wreath
To crown the temples of her Patriot King.