While Echo, as she rov'd the vale along, Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song. But ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, How mute Attention check'd each rising sound; Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, Scarce trill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay, When LOCKE walk'd musing forth; e'en now I view Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow, View Candor smile upon his modest cheek, And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break. 'Twas here the sage his manly zeal exprest, Here stript vain falshood of her gaudy vest; Here Truth's collected beams first fill'd his mind, E'er long to burst in blessings on mankind; E'er long to shew to reason's purged eye, That "NATURE'S FIRST BEST GIFT WAS LIBERTY." Proud of this wond'rous son, sublime I stood, (While louder surges swell'd my rapid flood) Then vain as Niobe, exulting cry'd, Ilissus! roll thy fam'd Athenian tide; Tho' Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring glade, Tho' fair Lycæum lent it's awful shade, Tho' ev'ry Academic green imprest It's image full on thy reflecting breast, Yet my pure stream shall boast as proud a name, And Britain's ISIS flow with Attic fame. Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic boast? See! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast; See! Hydra Faction spread it's impious reign, Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain: Hence frontless crouds, that not content to fright The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night, Blast the fair face of day; and madly bold, To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold; To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd, Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound; The horrid notes my refluent waters daunt, The Echoes groan, the Dryads quit their haunt; Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam, Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam, In some lone cloister's melancholy shade, Where a firm few support her sickly head, Despis'd, insulted by the barb'rous train, Who scour like Thracia's moon-struck rout the plain, Sworn foes like them to all the Muse approves, All Phæbus favours, or Minerva loves. Are these the sons my fost'ring breast must rear, Grac'd with my name, and nurtur'd by my care? Must these go forth from my maternal hand To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land, And boast while Freedom bleeds, and Virtue groans, That "ISIS taught Rebellion to her Sons?" Forbid it heaven! and let my rising waves Indignant swell, and whelm the recreant slaves! In England's cause their patriot floods employ, As Xanthus delug'd in the cause of Troy. Is this deny'd? then point some secret way Where far far hence these guiltless streams may stray; Some unknown channel lend, where Nature spreads Inglorious vales, and unfrequented meads, There, where a hind scarce tunes his rustic strain,