Page:An Ode to the Country Gentlemen of England - Akenside (1758).djvu/7

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IV.

No: thou art rich. thy streams and fertile vales

Add industry's wise gifts to nature's store:
And every port is crouded with thy sails,
And every wave throws treasure on thy shore.
What boots it? If luxurious plenty charm
Thy selfish heart from glory, if thy arm
Shrink at the frowns of danger and of pain,
Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine.
A coward's golden heaps malignant shine,
Bribing rapacious force to work their owner's bane.

V.

But what hath force or war to do with thee?

Girt by the azure tide and thron'd sublime
Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou can'st see,
With scorn the fury of each hostile clime
Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe
Are thy fair fields. athwart thy guardian prow
No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand—
Yet say, my country, will the waves and wind
Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd
To the sky's fickle faith? the pilot's wavering hand?

VI. For