But if some playful child sets wide the door, Abroad he flies, and thinks of home no more, With love of liberty begins to burn, And rather starves than to his cage return. Hail, Independence!--by true reason taught, How few have known, and prized thee as they ought! Some give thee up for riot; some, like boys, Resign thee, in their childish moods, for toys; Ambition some, some avarice, misleads, And in both cases Independence bleeds. 500 Abroad, in quest of thee, how many roam, Nor know they had thee in their reach at home; Some, though about their paths, their beds about, Have never had the sense to find thee out: Others, who know of what they are possess'd, Like fearful misers, lock thee in a chest, Nor have the resolution to produce, In these bad times, and bring thee forth for use. Hail, Independence!--though thy name's scarce known, Though thou, alas! art out of fashion grown, 510 Though all despise thee, I will not despise, Nor live one moment longer than I prize Thy presence, and enjoy: by angry Fate Bow'd down, and almost crush'd, thou cam'st, though late, Thou cam'st upon me, like a second birth, And made me know what life was truly worth. Hail, Independence!--never may my cot, Till I forget thee, be by thee forgot: Thither, oh! thither, oftentimes repair; Cotes,[325] whom thou lovest too, shall meet thee there. 520 All thoughts but what arise from joy give o'er, Peace dwells within, and law shall guard the door. O'erweening Bard! Law guard thy door! What law? The law of England. To control and awe Those saucy hopes, to strike that spirit dumb, Behold, in state, Administration come! Why, let her come, in all her terrors too; I dare to suffer all she dares to do. I know her malice well, and know her pride, I know her strength, but will not change my side. 530 This melting mass of flesh she may control With iron ribs--she cannot chain my soul. No--to the last resolved her worst to bear, I'm still at large, and independent there. Where is this minister? where is the band Of ready slaves, who at his elbow stand To hear, and to perform his wicked will? Why, for the first time, are they slow to ill? When some grand act 'gainst law is to be done, Doth ---- sleep; doth blood-hound ---- run 540 To L----, and worry those small deer, When he might do more precious mischief here? Doth Webb turn tail? doth he refuse to draw Illegal warrants, and to call them law? Doth ----, at Guildford kick'd, from Guildford run, With that cold lump of unbaked dough, his son, And, his more honest rival Ketch to cheat, Purchase a burial-place where three ways meet? Believe it not; ---- is ---- still, And never sleeps, when he should wake to ill: 550 ---- doth lesser mischiefs by the by, The great ones till the term in _petto_ lie: ---- lives, and, to the strictest justice true, Scorns to defraud the hangman of his due.