'Tis not thy virtue, but thy pride rebels. Think, (and for once lay by thy lawless pen) Think, and confess thyself like other men; Think but one hour, and, to thy conscience led By Reason's hand, bow down and hang thy head: Think on thy private life, recall thy youth, View thyself now, and own, with strictest truth, That Self hath drawn thee from fair Virtue's way Farther than Folly would have dared to stray; 200 And that the talents liberal Nature gave, To make thee free, have made thee more a slave. Quit then, in prudence quit, that idle train Of toys, which have so long abused thy brain. And captive led thy powers; with boundless will Let Self maintain her state and empire still; But let her, with more worthy objects caught, Strain all the faculties and force of thought To things of higher daring; let her range Through better pastures, and learn how to change; 210 Let her, no longer to weak Faction tied, Wisely revolt, and join our stronger side. _C_. Ah! what, my lord, hath private life to do With things of public nature? Why to view Would you thus cruelly those scenes unfold Which, without pain and horror to behold, Must speak me something more or less than man, Which friends may pardon, but I never can? Look back! a thought which borders on despair, Which human nature must, yet cannot bear. 220 'Tis not the babbling of a busy world, Where praise and censure are at random hurl'd, Which can the meanest of my thoughts control, Or shake one settled purpose of my soul; Free and at large might their wild curses roam, If all, if all, alas! were well at home. No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells, When she with more than tragic horror swells Each circumstance of guilt; when, stern but true, She brings bad actions forth into review; 230 And like the dread handwriting on the wall, Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call; Arm'd at all points, bids scorpion Vengeance pass, And to the mind holds up Reflection's glass,-- The mind which, starting, heaves the heartfelt groan, And hates that form she knows to be her own. Enough of this,--let private sorrows rest,-- As to the public, I dare stand the test; Dare proudly boast, I feel no wish above The good of England, and my country's love. 240 Stranger to party-rage, by Reason's voice, Unerring guide! directed in my choice, Not all the tyrant powers of earth combined, No, nor of hell, shall make me change my mind. What! herd with men my honest soul disdains, Men who, with servile zeal, are forging chains For Freedom's neck, and lend a helping hand To spread destruction o'er my native land? What! shall I not, e'en to my latest breath, In the full face of danger and of death, 250 Exert that little strength which Nature gave, And boldly stem, or perish in the wave? _L_. When I look backward for some fifty years, And see protesting patriots turn'd to peers;