452 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1767. 
Or when on Crefly’s field the fable might , if . ‘ 
Of Edward dar’d four monarchs to the fight ; 
Say, holy fhades, did. patriotic heat 
In your big hearts with quicker tranfports beat 
Than in your fons, when forth like ftorms they pour’d, | 
In Freedom’s caufe, the fury of the fword? ~ 
Who rul’d the main, or gallant armies led, 
With Hawke who conquer’d, or with Wolfe who bled ? 
Poor is his triumph, and difgrac’d his name, 
Who draws the {word for empire, wealth, or fame: 
For him though wealth be blown on ev’ry wind, 
Though fame announce him mightieft of mankind, 
Though twice ten nations crouch beneath his blade, 
Virtue difowns him, and his glories fade ; 
For him no pray’rs are pour’d, no pzans fung, 
No bleffings chanted from a nation’s tongue; 
Blood marks the path to his untimely bier; 
The curfe of orphans, and the widow’s tear, 
Cry to high Heav’n for vengeance on his head; 
Alive, deferted ; and accurft when dead. 
Indignant of his deeds, the Mufe, who fings 
Undaunted truth, and fcorns to flatter kings, 
Shall thew the monfter in his hideous form, 
And mark him as aa earthquake, ora ftorm. 
‘Not fo the patriot chief, who dar’d withftand 
The bafe invader of his native land; 
Who made her weal his nobleft, only end, 
Rul’d but to ferve her, fought but to defend : 
Her voice in:council, and in war her fword, 
Lov’d as her father, as her God ador’d; 
Who firmly virtuous, and feverely brave, , 
Sunk with the freedom that he could not fave. 
On worth like this the Mufe delights to’ wait, 
Reveres alike in triumph and defeat; 
Crowns with true glory and with {potlefs fame ; 
And honours Paoli’s more than Fred’ric’s name. 
Here let the Mufe withdraw the blood-ftain’d veil, 
And fhew the boldef& fon of public zeal. 
Lo, Sidney leaning o’er the block! his mien, 
His voice, his hands, unthaken, clear, ferene. 
Yet novharangue, proudly declaim’d aloud, 
To gain the plaudit of a wayward crowd; 
No Fascias vaunt, Death’s terrors to defy, 
Still death deferring as afraid to die: 
But fternly filent, down he bows, to prove 
How firm his virtuous, though miftaken loves 
Unconquer’d patriot! form’d by ancient lere 
The love of ancient freedom to reftore, 
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