Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/19

Rh The firt fair lot which earth affords, is his; And if he falls, he falls above a throne. When uch their leader, can the brave depair? Freedom the caue, and the chief! Succes to your fair hopes! a Britih Mue, Tho' weak and powerles, lifts her fervent voice, And breathes a prayer for your ucces. Oh could She catter bleings as the morn heds dews, To drop upon your heads! but patient hope Mut wait th' appointed hour; ecure of this, That never with the indolent and weak Will freedom deign to dwell; me mull be eiz'd By that bold arm that wretles for the bleing: 'Tis heaven's bet gift, and mut be bought with blood. When the torm thickens, when the combat burns, And pain and death in every horrid hape That can appall the feeble, prowl around, Then virtue triumphs; then her tow'ring form Dilates