Britons! away with the degenerate pack! Waft, western winds! the foreign spoilers back! Enough has been in wild amusements spent, Let British verse and harmony content! No music once could charm you like your own, 5 Then tuneful Robinson,[64] and Tofts were known; Then Purcell touched the strings, while numbers hung Attentive to the sounds--and blest the song! E'en gentle Weldon taught us manly notes, Beyond the enervate thrills of Roman throats! 10 Notes, foreign luxury could ne'er inspire, That animate the soul, and swell the lyre! That mend, and not emasculate our hearts, And teach the love of freedom and of arts. Nor yet, while guardian Phœbus gilds our isle, 15 Does heaven averse await the muses' toil; Cherish but once our worth of native race, The sister-arts shall soon display their face! Even half discouraged through the gloom they strive, Smile at neglect, and o'er oblivion live. 20 See Handel, careless of a foreign fame, Fix on our shore, and boast a Briton's name: While, placed marmoric in the vocal grove,[65] He guides the measures listening throngs approve. Mark silence at the voice of Arne confess'd, 25 Soft as the sweet enchantress rules the breast; As when transported Venice lent an ear, Camilla's charms to view, and accents hear![66] So while she varies the impassion'd song, Alternate motions on the bosom throng! 30 As heavenly Milton[67] guides her magic voice, And virtue thus convey'd allures the choice. Discard soft nonsense in a slavish tongue, The strain insipid, and the thought unknown; From truth and nature form the unerring test; 35 Be what is manly, chaste, and good the best! 'Tis not to ape the songsters of the groves, Through all the quiverings of their wanton loves; 'Tis not the enfeebled thrill, or warbled shake, The heart can strengthen, or the soul awake! 40 But where the force of energy is found When the sense rises on the wings of sound; When reason, with the charms of music twined, Through the enraptured ear informs the mind; Bids generous love or soft compassion glow, 45 And forms a tuneful Paradise below! Oh Britons! if the honour still you boast, No longer purchase follies at such cost! No longer let unmeaning sounds invite To visionary scenes of false delight: 50 When, shame to sense! we see the hero's rage Lisp'd on the tongue, and danced along the stage! Or hear in eunuch sounds a hero squeak, While kingdoms rise or fall upon a shake! Let them at home to slavery's painted train, 55 With siren art, repeat the pleasing strain: While we, like wise Ulysses, close our ear To songs which liberty forbids to hear!