ODE VIII.
43
While Truth, diffusing from on high
A lustre unconfin'd as day,
Fills and commands the public eye,
Till, pierc'd and sinking by her pow'rful ray,
Tame Sloth and monkish Awe, like nightly Dæmons, fly.
Hence all the land the Patriot's ardour shares;
Hence dread Religion smiles with social joy;
Hence the free bosom's softest, loveliest cares,
Each graceful scene of private life imploy.
O fair Britannia, hail!With partial love
The tribes of men their native seats approve,
Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame;
But when from gen'rous minds and manly laws
A nation holds her prime applause,
There public zeal defies the test of blame.
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ODE
