Great orb, that on our planet shines, Whose power both light and heat combines, You should the model be; To man, the pattern how to reign With equal sway, and how maintain True human dignity. Impartially to all below The solar beams unstinted flow, On all is poured the Ray, Which cheers, which warms, which clothes the ground In robes of green, or breathes around Life;--to enjoy the day. But crowns not so;--with selfish views They partially their bliss diffuse Their minions feel them kind;-- And, still opposed to human right, Their plans, their views in this unite, To embroil and curse mankind. Ye tyrants, false to Him, who gave Life, and the virtues of the brave, All worth we own, or know:-- Who made you great, the lords of man, To waste with wars, with blood to stain The Maker's works below? You have no iron race to sway-- Illume them well with Reason's ray; Inform our active race; True honour, to the mind impart, With virtue's precepts tame the heart, Not urge it to be base; Let laws revive, by heaven designed, To tame the tiger in the mind And drive from human hearts That love of wealth, that love of sway Which leads the world too much astray, Which points envenomed darts: And men will rise from what they are; Sublimer, and superior, far, Than Solon guessed, or Plato saw; All will be just, all will be good-- That harmony, "not understood," Will reign the general law. For, in our race, deranged, bereft, The parting god some vestige left Of worth before possessed; Which full, which fair, which perfect shone When love and peace, in concord sown, Ruled, and inspired each breast. Hence, the small Good which yet we find, Is shades of that prevailing mind Which sways the worlds around:-- Let these depart, once disappear, And earth would all the horrors wear In hell's dominions found. Just, as yon' tree, which, bending, grows To chance, not fate, its fortune owes; So man from some rude shock, Some slighted power, some hostile hand, Has missed the state by Nature planned, Has split on passion's rock. Yet shall that tree, when hewed away (As human woes have had their day) A new creation find: The infant shoot in time will swell, (Sublime and great from that which fell,) To all that heaven designed. What is this earth, that sun, these skies; If all we see, on man must rise, Forsaken and oppressed-- Why blazes round the eternal beam, Why, Reason, art thou called supreme, Where nations find no rest.-- What are the splendours of this ball-- When life is closed, what are they all? When dust to dust returns Does power, or wealth, attend the dead; Are captives from the contest led-- Is homage paid to urns?