Strong, and unconquerable even in death-
Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour!
Now yonder high way view, wide-beaten, bare
With ceaseless tread of men and beafts, and track
Of many' indenting wheels, heavy and light,
That violently rush with unsafe speed,
Or flowly turn, oft-refting, up the steep.
Mark how that road, with mazes ferpentine,
From * Shipton's bottom to the lofty down
Winds like a path of pleasure, drawn by art
Through park or flowery garden for delight.
Nor lefs delightful this; if, while he mounts
Not wearied, the free Journeyer will pause
To view the profpect oft, as oft to fee
Beauty ftill changing: yet not fo contrived
By fancy' or choice, but of neceffity,
By soft gradations of ascent to lead
* Shipton is a hill, which, according to common report, is fo called from its shape: the top of it being formed like a ship with the keel upwards. It stands three miles from Bridport on the road towards London; which road paffes by the foot of it to the North.
The labouring and way-worn feet along,
And make their toil lefs toilfome. Half way up
Or nearer to the top, behold a cot,
O'er which the branchy trees, those fycamores,
Wave gently at their roots a ruftic bench
Invites to fhort refreshment, and to tafte
What grateful beverage the house may yield
After fatigue, or dufty heat; thence call'd
The Traveller's Reft. Welcome, embower'd feat,
Friendly repose to the flow paffenger
Afcending, ere he takes his fultry way
Along th' interminable road, stretch'd out
Over th' unfhelter'd down; or when at laft
He has that hard and folitary path
Measured by painful fteps. And bleft are they,
Who in life's toilfome journey may make pause
After a march of glory: yet not fuch
As rife in causeless war, troubling the world
By their mad quarrel, and in fields of blood.
Hail'd victors, thence renown'd, and call'd on earth
Kings, heroes, demi-gods, but in high Heaven
Theives, ruffians, murderers; these find no repose :
Thee rather, patriot Conqueror, to thee
Belongs fuch reft; who in the western world,
Thine own deliver'd country, for thyfelf
Hast planted an immortal grove, and there,
Upon the glorious mount of Liberty
Repofing, fit'ft beneath the palmy shade.
And Thou, not lefs renown'd in like attempt
Of high atchievement, though thy virtue fail'd
To fave thy little country, Patriot Prince,
Hero, Philofopher (what more could they
Who wifely chofe Thee, PAOLI, to bless
Thy native Ifle, long ftruggling to be free?
But Heaven allow'd not) yet may'ft thou repose
After thy glorious toil, fecure of fame
Well-earn'd by virtue: while ambitious France,
Who ftretch'd her lawlefs hand to feize thine ifle,
Enjoys not reft or glory; with her prey
Gorged but not fatisfied, and craving ftill
Against th' intent of Nature. See Her now
Upon the adverse shore, her Norman coast,
Plying her monftrous labour unrestrain'd;
A rank of castles in the rough fea funk,
With towery shape and height, and armed heads
Uprising o'er the furge; and these between,
Unmeasurable mafs of ponderous rock
Projected many a mile to rear her wall
Midft the deep waters. She, the mighty work
Still urging, in her arrogant attempt,
As with a lordly voice to the Ocean cries,
• Hitherto come, no farther; here be ftaid
The raging of thy waves; within this bound
Be all my haven' and therewith takes in
A space of ampleft circuit, wide and deep,
Won from the straiten'd main: nor less in ftrength
Than in dimenfions; giant-like in both:
On each fide flank'd with citadels and towers
And rocky walls, and arches maffy proof
Against the storm of war. Compared with this,
† Less, and less hazardous emprize atcheived
* A detail of this vaft project is given at the conclufion of this Poem.
+ Quint. Curt. lib. 4. cap. 2, 3.
Refiftlefs Alexander, when he caft
The ftrong foundations of that high-raised mound
Deep in the hostile waves, his martial way;
Built on before him up to fea-girt Tyre.
*Nor aught fo bold, fo vaft, fo wonderful,
At Athos or the fetter'd Hellefpont,
Imagined in his pride that Asian vain,
Xerxes, but ere he turn'd from Salamis
Fly'ing through the blood-red waves in one poor bark,
Retarded by thick-weltering carcaffes.
+ Nor yet that elder work (if work it were,
Not fable) raised upon the Phrygian shore,
(Where lay the fleet confederate against Troy,
A thousand ships behind the vasty mole
All shelter'd) could with this compare, though built
It seem'd, of greatnefs worthy to create
Envy in the immortals; and at last
Not overthrown without th' embattled aid
Of angry Neptune. So may He once more
Rife from his troubled bed, and fend his waves,
* Juv. Sat. X. v. 173, 186.
† Hom. II. VII. v. 433, 463. et II. XII. v. I, 33.
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