We are selfish men; O raise us up, return to us again, And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power! Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 525. England, 1802 iii GREAT men have been among us; hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom--better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who call'd Milton friend.

These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men! 526.

England, 1802 iv IT is not to be thought of that the flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flow'd, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands,-- That this most famous stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.--In everything we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.