Remote from Liberty and Truth,

By Fortune's Crime, my early Youth

Drank Error's poison'd Springs:

Taught by dark Creeds and Mystick Law,

Wrapt up in reverential Awe,

I bow'd to Priests and Kings. 

Soon Reason dawn'd, with troubled Sight,

I caught the Glimpse of painful Light,

Afflicted and afraid;

Too weak it shone, to mark my Way,

Enough to tempt my Steps to stray

Along the dubious Shade.

Restless I roam'd, when from afar

Lo! Hooker shines the friendly Star,

Sends forth a steady Ray:

Thus chear'd, and eager to pursue,

I mount, till glorious to my View,

Locke spreads the Realms of Day.

Now warm'd with Noble Sydney's Page,

I pant with all the Patriot's Rage,

Now wrapt in Plato's Dream,

With More and Harrington around,

I tread fair Freedom's Magick Ground,

And trace the flatt'ring Scheme.

But soon the beauteous Vision flies,

And horrid Spectres now arise,

Corruption's direful Bane!

The partial Judge perverting Laws,

The Priest forsaking Virtue's Cause,

And Senates Slaves to Gain.

In vain, the pious Artist's Toil

Would raise to Heav'n a mortal Pile

On some immortal Plan:

Within a sure, tho' varying Date,

Confin'd, alas! is ev'ry State

Of Empire and of Man.

What tho' the Brave, the Good, the Wise,

With adverse Force undaunted rise,

To break th'Eternal Doom;

Tho' Cato liv'd, tho' Tully spoke,

Tho' Brutus dealt the Godlike Stroke,

Yet perish'd Fated Rome.

To spread some future Tyrant's Pride,

Great Fleury pours the Golden Tide

On Gallia's smiling Shores:

Once more her Fields shall thirst in vain

For wholesome Streams of honest Gain,

While Rapine wastes her Stores.

Yet Glorious is the Great Design!

And such, O Pult'ney! such is thine,

To prop a Nation's Frame:

If crush'd beneath the sacred Weight,

The Ruins of a Falling State

Shall tell the Patriot's Name.