“And ye five other wandering bards, that move In sweet accord of harmony and love, COLERIDGE and SOUTHEY, LLOYD, and LAMB & CO. Tune all your mystic harps to praise LEPAUX! “PRIESTLEY and WAKEFIELD, humble, holy men, Give praises to his name with tongue and pen! “THELWALL, and ye that lecture as ye go, 340 And for your pains get pelted, praise LEPAUX! “Praise him each Jacobin, or Fool, or Knave, And your cropp’d heads in sign of worship wave! “All creeping creatures, venomous and low, PAINE, WILLIAMS, GODWIN, HOLCROFT, praise LEPAUX! “—— and —— with —— join’d,[327] And every other beast after his kind. “And thou, _Leviathan_! on ocean’s brim Hugest of living things that sleep and swim; Thou, in whose nose, by BURKE’S gigantic hand 350 The hook was fixed to drag thee to the land, With ——, ——, and ——, in thy train, And —— wallowing in the yeasty main,—[328] Still as ye snort, and puff, and spout, and blow, In puffing, and in spouting, praise LEPAUX!” · · · · · BRITAIN, beware; nor let th’ insidious foe, Of force despairing, aim a deadlier blow; Thy Peace, thy Strength, with devilish wiles assail, And when her Arms are vain, by Arts prevail. True, thou art rich, art powerful!—thro’ thine Isle 360 Industrious skill, contented labour, smile; Far Seas are studded with thy countless sails; What wind but wafts them, and what shore but hails! True, thou art brave!—o’er all the busy land In patriot ranks embattled myriads stand; Thy foes behold with impotent amaze And drop the lifted weapon as they gaze But what avails to guard each outward part, If subtlest poison, circling at thy heart, Spite of thy courage, of thy pow’r, and wealth, 370 Mine the sound fabric of thy vital health? So thine own Oak, by some fair streamlet’s side, Waves its broad arms, and spreads its leafy pride, Tow’rs from the earth, and rearing to the skies Its conscious strength, the tempest’s wrath defies. Its ample branches shield the fowls of air, To its cool shade the panting herds repair. The treacherous current works its noiseless way, The fibres loosen, and the roots decay; Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all 380 That shared its shelter, perish in its fall. O thou! lamented SAGE! whose prescient scan Pierc’d through foul Anarchy’s gigantic plan, Prompt to incredulous hearers to disclose The guilt of _France_, and Europe’s world of woes;— Thou, on whose name each distant age shall gaze, The mighty sea-mark of these troubled days! O large of soul, of genius unconfin’d, Born to delight, instruct, and mend mankind! BURKE! in whose breast a Roman ardour glow’d; 390 Whose copious tongue with Grecian richness flow’d; Well hast thou found (if such thy country’s doom), A timely refuge in the sheltering tomb!