Yet more remain unknown:—for who can tell What bashful genius, in some rural cell, As year to year, and day succeeds to day, In joyless leisure wastes his life away? In him the flame of early fancy shone; His genuine worth his old companions own; 60 In childhood and in youth their chief confess’d, His master’s pride, his pattern to the rest. Now, far aloof retiring from the strife Of busy talents, and of active life, As from the loop-holes of retreat he views Our stage, verse, pamphlets, politics, and news, He loathes the world,—or, with reflections sad, Concludes it irrecoverably mad; Of taste, of learning, morals, all bereft, No hope, no prospect to redeem it left. 70 Awake! for shame! or e’er thy nobler sense Sink in th’ oblivious pool of indolence! Must wit be found alone on falsehood’s side, Unknown to truth, to virtue unallied? Arise! nor scorn thy country’s just alarms; Wield in her cause thy long-neglected arms: Of lofty satire pour th’ indignant strain, Leagued with her friends, and ardent to maintain ’Gainst Learning’s, Virtue’s, Truth’s, Religion’s foes, A kingdom’s safety, and the world’s repose. 80 If Vice appal thee,—if thou view with awe Insults that brave, and crimes that ’scape the law; Yet may the specious bastard brood, which claim A spurious homage under Virtue’s name, Sprung from that parent of ten thousand crimes, The _New Philosophy_ of modern times,— Yet, these may rouse thee!—With unsparing hand, Oh, lash the vile impostures from the land! First, stern PHILANTHROPY:—not she, who dries The orphan’s tears, and wipes the widow’s eyes; 90 Not she, who sainted Charity her guide, Of British bounty pours the annual tide:— But _French_ PHILANTHROPY;—whose boundless mind Glows with the general love of all mankind;— PHILANTHROPY,—beneath whose baneful sway Each patriot passion sinks, and dies away. Taught in her school to imbibe thy mawkish strain, CONDORCET, filtered through the dregs of PAINE, Each pert adept disowns a Briton’s part, And plucks the name of ENGLAND from his heart. 100 What! shall a name, a word, a sound, control Th’ aspiring thought, and cramp th’ expansive soul? Shall one half-peopled Island’s rocky round A love, that glows for all creation, bound? And social charities contract the plan Framed for thy freedom, UNIVERSAL MAN! No—through th’ extended globe his feelings run As broad and general as th’ unbounded sun! No narrow bigot _he_;—_his_ reason’d view Thy interests, _England_, ranks with thine, _Peru_! 110 _France_ at our doors, _he_ sees no danger nigh, But heaves for _Turkey’s_ woes th’ impartial sigh; A steady patriot of the world alone, The friend of every country—but his own.