Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/105

 They from their isle, as from some ark secure, Careless, unpitying, view the fiery bolts Of Superstition and tyrannic rage, And all the fury of the rolling storm, Which fierce pursues the suff'rers in their flight. Shall not our gates, shall not Britannia's arms, Spread ever open to receive their flight ? A virtuous people, by distresses oft (Distresses for the sake of truth endur'd) Corrected, dignify'd ; creating good Wherever they inhabit : this our isle Has oft experienc'd ; witness all ye realms Of either hemisphere where commerce flows: Th' important truth is stamp'd on every bale ; Each glossy cloth, and drape of mantle warm, Receives th' impression ; every airy woof, Cheyney, and baize, and serge, and alepine, Tammy, and crape, and the long countless list Of woollen webs ; and every work of steel ; And that crystalline metal, blown or fus'd, Limpid as water dropping from the clefts Of mossy marble : not to name the aids Their wit has giv'n the Fleece, now taught to link With flax, or cotton, or the silk-worm's thread, And gain the graces of variety ; Whether to form the matron's decent robe, Or the thin-shading trail for Agra's nymphs ; Or solemn curtains, whose long gloomy folds Surround the soft pavilions of the rich. They, too, the many-colour'd Arras taught To mimic nature, and the airy shapes Of sportive fancy ; such as oft appear In old Mosaic pavements, when the plough Upturns the crumbling glebe of Weldon field, Or that o'ershaded erst by Woodstock's bower,