Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/112

 Wild Nature back returns. Along these shores Neglected Trade with difficulty toils, Collecting slender stores, the sun-dry'd grape, Or capers from the rock, that prompt the taste Of Luxury. Ev'n Egypt's fertile strand, Bereft of human discipline has lost Its ancient lustre : Alexandria's port, Once the metropolis of trade, as Tyre And elder Sidon, as the Attic town, Beautiful Athens, as rich Corinth, Rhodes, Unhonour'd droops. Of all the num'rous marts That in those glitt'ring seas with splendour rose, Only Byzantium, of peculiar site, Remains in prosperous state, and Tripolis, And Smyrna, sacred ever to the Muse. To these resort the delegates of Trade, Social in life, a virtuous brotherhood, And bales of softest wool from Bradford looms, Or Stroud, dispense ; yet see with vain regret Their stores, once highly priz'd, no longer now Or sought, or valued : copious webs arrive, Smooth wov'n, of other than Britannia's Fleece. On the throng'd strand alluring: the great skill Of Gaul, and greater industry, prevails, That proud imperious foe. Yet, ah it is not Wrong not the Gaul ; it is the foe within Impairs our ancient marts, it is the bribe ; 'Tis he who pours into the shops of trade That impious poison : it is he who gains The sacred seat of parliament by means That vitiate and emasculate the mind ; By sloth, by lewd intemperance, and a scene Of riot worse than that which ruin'd Rome. This, this the Tartar and remote Chinese, And all the brotherhood of life, bewail.