Classic Poem

Could poor I ERNE Gifts afford,
Worthy the Consort of her L ORD ,
Of purest Gold a sculptur'd Frame,
Just Emblem of her Zeal, should flame:
Within, the Produce of her Soil,
Wrought by her Hand with curious Toil,
Should from her splendid Looms supply
The richest Web of Tyrian Dye;
Where blended Tints, in plastic Lore,
Might, breathing, shame the sculptur'd Ore.

There should the R OYAL C HARLOTTE trace
Her B RUNSWICK , in majestic grace,
With Looks beneficently kind,
The Face illumin'd by the Mind;
While He, with Joy-transported Eyes,
Should see His much-lov'd C HARLOTTE rise;
And Both behold their Infant-train,
Cull Flowrets on the pictur'd Plain,
Weaving for Them a fragrant Band,
More sweet from the presenting Hand:
Such was the Wreath, when H YMEN led
Our M ONARCH to his nuptial Bed;
And such the tender Chain which binds,
In mutual Love, their wedded Minds.

Nor here the Artist's Skill should cease:
Glorious in War, and great in Peace,
Our K ING should stand, alike renown'd
With Laurel or with Olive crown'd:
Should, o'er the Blood-besprinkled Field,
Bid Vengeance to Compassion yield;
Or J USTICE , rous'd by Faction's Band,
Snatch her sheath'd Sword from M ERCY'S Hand.

Far distant o'er the foaming Main,
And distant may it e'er remain!
A gath'ring Cloud should blot the Skies,
And Mists in noxious Vapour rise;
Such as, in Summer's Solstice spread,
Steam from the pregnant Meadow's Bed;
While the bewilder'd Travellers roam
Wide from the Path which leads to Home;
No faithful Mark, no Guide secure
To trace the palpable Obscure:
And such the Veil hot Frenzy draws
O'er Reason, Liberty, and Laws.

But, close behind, returning Day
Should chace the Gloom obscene away;
And, mildly beaming, Heaven-sent P EACE
Bid D ISCORD and C ONFUSION cease;
Lead FILIAL Piety sincere,
Bath'd in a penitential Tear,
To the fond P ARENT'S melting Breast,
Long lost, a dearly welcome Guest.
Kind I NDUSTRY , with ready Hand,
Should strew her Treasures o'er the Land;
Chearful her wonted Toil resume,
Rich C OMMERCE spread, fair P LENTY bloom;
And L OVE , the universal Soul,
Inspire, combine, and bless the whole.

And O! might poor I ERNE hope,
In sober Freedom's liberal Scope,
To ply the Loom, to plough the Main,
Nor see Heaven's Bounties pour'd in vain,
(1) Where starving Hinds, from Fens and Rocks,
View Pastures rich with Herds and Flocks;
And only view, forbid to taste;
Sad Tenants of a dreary Waste:
For other Hinds our Oxen bleed;
(2) Our Flocks for happier Regions feed,
Their Fleece to Gallia's Looms resign,
More rich than the Peruvian Mine;
Her Fields with barren Lilies strown,
Now white with Treasures not her own,
In vain I ERNE'S piercing Cries
Plaintive pursue the golden Prize;
While all aghast the Weaver stands,
And drops the Shuttle from his Hands.
Barter accurst! but mad Distress
To Ruin flies from Wretchedness.
Theirs be the blame, who bar the Course
Of Commerce from her genuine Source,
And drive the Wretch his Thirst to slake
With Poison, in a stagnant Lake.

Hence Ports secure from ev'ry Wind,
For Trade, for Wealth, for Power design'd,
Where faithful Coasts and friendly Gales
Invite the Helm and court the Sails,
A wide deserted Space expand,
Surrounded with uncultur'd Land.
(3) Thence P OVERTY , with haggard Eye,
Beholds the British Streamers fly;
Beholds the Merchant doom'd to brave
The treacherous Shoal, and adverse Wave,
Constrain'd to risk his precious Store,
And shun our interdicted Shore,
(4) Thus B RITAIN works a S ISTER'S Woe;
Thus starves a Friend, and gluts a Foe.

Yet shall this humble Gift impart
The Tribute of a loyal Heart;
And T HOU with Smiles benign receive:
('Tis all that loyal Heart can give.)
When on thy Robe, with mingled Rays,
The Ruby and the Diamond blaze;
Unmindful of G OLCONDA'S Prize,
T HOU mark'st our Rapture-sparkling Eyes;
Faintly her Gems their Lustre prove,
Lost in the Flame of B RITAIN'S L OVE .
And when the rustic C HORUS sing,
In artless Notes, G OD SAVE THE K ING ;
Altho', with unmelodious Prayer,
In Strains like mine T HEY rend the Air;
T HY ravish'd Ears forget the Lyre,
E'en while T HY H ANDS the String inspire:
Such Notes, when grateful Crowds rejoice,
Hymn sweeter than a Seraph's Voice;
And such, along the swarming Shore,
Loud-echo'd to the Cannon's Roar;
While B RITAIN'S Glory shone display'd,
In all the Pride of Pomp array'd;
Where sovereign of the azure Flood,
Her GUARDIAN G ENIUS smiling stood.