THE
GENIUS
OF
BRITAIN
.
AN
IAMBIC
ODE
.
WRITTEN
IN
MDCCLVI
.
AS
late
o'er
Britain's
chalky
coasts
The
Genius
of
the
island
flew
,
The
venal
swarm
of
foreign
hosts
Inglorious
basking
in
his
view
,
Deep
in
his
breast
he
felt
the
new
disgrace
,
And
honest
blushes
warm'd
his
godlike
face
.
Quick
flash'd
the
lightning
of
his
spear
,
Which
blasted
France
on
Cressy's
field
,
He
wheel'd
the
blazing
sword
in
air
,
And
on
his
shoulders
spread
the
shield
,
As
when
,
o'er
Agincourt's
blood-purpled
lands
,
Pale
Terror
stalk'd
thro'
all
the
Gallic
bands
.
Soon
as
he
cast
his
eyes
below
,
Deep
heav'd
the
sympathetic
sigh
,
Sudden
the
tears
of
anguish
flow
,
For
sore
he
felt
th'
indignity
;
Discordant
passions
shook
his
heavenly
frame
,
Now
Horror's
damp
,
now
indignation's
flame
.
Ah
!
what
avails
,
he
cried
,
the
blood
Shed
by
each
patriot
band
of
yore
,
When
Freedom's
unpaid
legions
stood
Protectors
of
this
sea-girt
shore
,
When
antient
Wisdom
deem'd
each
British
sword
From
hostile
power
could
guard
its
valiant
lord
.
What
tho'
the
Danish
raven
spread
Awhile
his
wings
o'er
English
ground
,
The
bird
of
prey
funereal
fled
When
Alfred
call'd
his
peers
around
,
Whose
fleets
triumphant
riding
on
the
flood
,
Deep
stain'd
each
chalky
cliff
with
Denmark's
blood
.
Alfred
on
natives
could
depend
,
And
scorn'd
a
foreign
force
t'employ
,
He
thought
,
who
dar'd
not
to
defend
Were
never
worthy
to
enjoy
;
The
realm's
and
monarch's
interest
deem'd
but
one
,
And
arm'd
his
subjects
to
maintain
their
own
.
What
tho'
weak
John's
divided
reign
The
Gallic
legions
tempted
o'er
,
When
Henry's
barons
join'd
again
,
Those
feather'd
warriors
left
the
shore
;
Learn
,
Britons
,
hence
you
want
no
foreign
friends
,
The
Lion's
safety
on
himself
depends
.
Reflect
on
Edward's
glorious
name
;
On
my
fifth
Henry's
martial
deeds
;
Think
on
those
peers
of
deathless
fame
,
Who
met
their
king
on
Thames's
meads
,
When
sovereign
might
acknowledg'd
reason's
plea
,
That
heaven
created
man
for
liberty
.
Tho'
Rome's
fell
star
malignant
shone
,
When
good
Eliza
rul'd
this
state
,
On
English
hearts
she
plac'd
her
throne
,
And
in
their
happiness
her
fate
,
While
blacker
than
the
tempests
of
the
North
,
The
papal
tyrant
sent
his
curses
forth
.
Lo
!
where
my
Thames's
waters
glide
At
great
Augusta's
regal
feet
,
Bearing
on
each
returning
tide
From
distant
realms
a
golden
fleet
,
Which
homeward
wafts
the
fruits
of
every
zone
,
And
makes
the
wealth
of
all
the
world
your
own
.
Shall
on
his
silver
waves
be
borne
Of
armed
slaves
a
venal
crew
?
Lo
!
the
old
God
denotes
his
scorn
,
And
shudders
at
th'
unusual
view
,
Down
to
his
deepest
cave
retires
to
mourn
,
And
tears
indignant
bathe
his
crystal
urn
.
O
!
how
can
vassals
born
to
bear
The
galling
weight
of
Slavery's
chain
,
A
patriot's
noble
ardor
share
,
Or
Freedom's
sacred
cause
maintain
?
Britons
,
exert
your
own
unconquer'd
might
,
A
Freeman
best
defends
a
Freeman's
right
.
Look
back
on
every
deathless
deed
For
which
your
sires
recorded
stand
;
To
battle
,
let
your
nobles
lead
The
sons
of
toil
,
and
hardy
band
;
The
sword
on
each
rough
peasant's
thigh
be
worn
,
And
war's
green
wreaths
the
shepherd's
front
adorn
.
But
see
!
upon
his
utmost
shores
America's
sad
Genius
lies
,
Each
wasted
province
he
deplores
,
And
casts
on
me
his
languid
eyes
,
Bless'd
with
heav'n's
favourite
ordinance
I
fly
To
raise
the
oppress'd
,
and
humble
tyranny
.
This
said
,
the
Vision
westward
fled
,
His
wrinkled
brow
denouncing
war
;
The
way
fire-mantled
Vengeance
led
,
And
Justice
drove
his
airy
car
;
Behind
firm-footed
Peace
her
olive
bore
,
And
Plenty's
horn
pour'd
blessings
on
the
shore
.