Let The Sea Make A Noise, Let The Floods Clap Their Hands. Psalm Xcviii. Sweet Rural Scene! Of Flocks And Green! At Careless Ease My Limbs Are Spread; All Nature Still, But Yonder Rill; And List'Ning Pines Nod O'Er My Head: In Prospect Wide, The Boundless Tide! Waves Cease To Foam, And Winds To Roar; Without A Breeze, The Curling Seas Dance On, In Measure To The Shore. Who Sings The Source Of Wealth And Force? Vast Field Of Commerce, And Big War, Where Wonders Dwell! Where Terrors Swell! And Neptune Thunders From His Car? Where? Where Are They, Whom P'An'S Ray Has Touch'D, And Bid Divinely Rave?-- What! None Aspire? I Snatch The Lyre, And Plunge Into The Foaming Wave. The Wave Resounds! The Rock Rebounds! The Nereids To My Song Reply! I Lead The Choir, And They Conspire, With Voice And Shell, To Lift It High. They Spread In Air Their Bosoms Fair, Their Verdant Tresses Pour Behind: The Billows Beat With Nimble Feet, With Notes Triumphant Swell The Wind. Who Love The Shore, Let Those Adore The God Apollo, And His Nine, Parnassus' Hill, And Orpheus' Skill; But Let Arion'S Harp Be Mine. The Main! The Main! Is Britain'S Reign; Her Strength, Her Glory, Is Her Fleet: The Main! The Main! Be Britain'S Strain; As Tritons Strong, As Syrens Sweet. Thro' Nature Wide Is Nought Descried So Rich In Pleasure Or Surprise; When All-Serene, How Sweet The Scene! How Dreadful, When The Billows Rise; And Storms Deface The Fluid Glass, In Which Erewhile Britannia Fair Look'D Down With Pride, Like Ocean'S Bride, Adjusting Her Majestic Air! When Tempests Cease, And, Hush'D In Peace, The Flatten'D Surges Smoothly Spread, Deep Silence Keep, And Seem To Sleep Recumbent On Their Oozy Bed; With What A Trance, The Level Glance, Unbroken, Shoots Along The Seas! Which Tempt From Shore The Painted Oar; And Every Canvass Courts The Breeze! When Rushes Forth The Frowning North On Black'Ning Billows, With What Dread My Shuddering Soul Beholds Them Roll, And Hears Their Roarings O'Er My Head! With Terror Mark Yon Flying Bark! Now Center-Deep Descend The Brave; Now, Toss'D On High, It Takes The Sky, A Feather On The Tow'Ring Wave! Now Spins Around In Whirls Profound: Now Whelm'D; Now Pendant Near The Clouds; Now Stunn'D, It Reels 'Midst Thunder'S Peals: And Now Fierce Lightning Fires The Shrouds. All Ether Burns! Chaos Returns! And Blends, Once More, The Seas And Skies: No Space Between Thy Bosom Green, O Deep! And The Blue Concave, Lies. The Northern Blast, The Shatter'D Mast, The Syrt, The Whirlpool, And The Rock, The Breaking Spout, The Stars Gone Out, The Boiling Streight, The Monsters Shock, Let Others Fear; To Britain Dear Whate'Er Promotes Her Daring Claim; Those Terrors Charm, Which Keep Her Warm In Chase Of Honest Gain, Or Fame. The Stars Are Bright To Cheer The Night, And Shed, Thro' Shadows, Temper'D Fire; And Phoebus' Flames, With Burnish'D Beams, Which Some Adore, And All Admire. Are Then The Seas Outshone By These? Bright Thetis! Thou Art Not Outshone; With Kinder Beams, And Softer Gleams, Thy Bosom Wears Them As Thy Own. There, Set In Green, Gold Stars Are Seen, A Mantle Rich! Thy Charms To Wrap; And When The Sun His Race Has Run, He Falls Enamour'D In Thy Lap. Those Clouds, Whose Dyes Adorn The Skies, That Silver Snow, That Pearly Rain, Has Phoebus Stole To Grace The Pole, The Plunder Of Th' Invaded Main! The Gaudy Bow, Whose Colours Glow, Whose Arch With So Much Skill Is Bent, To Phoebus' Ray, Which Paints So Gay, By Thee The Wat'Ry Woof Was Lent. In Chambers Deep, Where Waters Sleep, What Unknown Treasures Pave The Floor! The Pearl, In Rows, Pale Lustre Throws; The Wealth Immense, Which Storms Devour. From Indian Mines, With Proud Designs, The Merchant, Swoln, Digs Golden Ore; The Tempests Rise, And Seize The Prize, And Toss Him Breathless On The Shore. His Son Complains In Pious Strains, "Ah Cruel Thirst Of Gold!" He Cries; Then Ploughs The Main, In Zeal For Gain, The Tears Yet Swelling In His Eyes. Thou Wat'Ry Vast! What Mounds Are Cast To Bar Thy Dreadful Flowings O'Er! Thy Proudest Foam Must Know Its Home; But Rage Of Gold Disdains A Shore. Gold Pleasure Buys; But Pleasure Dies, Too Soon The Gross Fruition Cloys; Tho' Raptures Court, The Sense Is Short; But Virtue Kindles Living Joys; Joys Felt Alone! Joys Ask'D Of None! Which Time'S And Fortune'S Arrows Miss: Joys That Subsist, Tho' Fates Resist, An Unprecarious, Endless Bliss! The Soul Refin'D Is Most Inclin'D To Every Moral Excellence; All Vice Is Dull, A Knave'S A Fool; And Virtue Is The Child Of Sense. The Virtuous Mind, Nor Wave, Nor Wind, Nor Civil Rage, Nor Tyrant'S Frown, The Shaken Ball, Nor Planet'S Fall, From Its Firm Basis Can Dethrone. This Britain Knows, And Therefore Glows With Gen'Rous Passions, And Expends Her Wealth And Zeal On Public Weal, And Brightens Both By God-Like Ends. What End So Great As That Which Late Awoke The Genius Of The Main; Which Tow'Ring Rose With George To Close, And Rival Great Eliza'S Reign? A Voice Has Flown From Britain'S Throne To Re-Inflame A Grand Design; That Voice Shall Rear Yon (23)Fabric Fair, As Nature'S Rose At The Divine. When Nature Sprung, Blest Angels Sung, And Shouted O'Er The Rising Ball; For Strains As High As Man'S Can Fly, These Sea-Devoted Honours Call. From Boist'Rous Seas, The Lap Of Ease Receives Our Wounded, And Our Old; High Domes Ascend! Stretch'D Arches Bend! Proud Columns Swell! Wide Gates Unfold! Here, Soft Reclin'D, From Wave, From Wind, And Fortune'S Tempest Safe Ashore, To Cheat Their Care, Of Former War They Talk The Pleasing Shadows O'Er. In Lengthen'D Tales, Our Fleet Prevails; In Tales The Lenitives Of Age! And O'Er The Bowl, They Fire The Soul Of List'Ning Youth, To Martial Rage. Unhappy They! And Falsely Gay! Who Bask For Ever In Success; A Constant Feast Quite Palls The Taste, And Long Enjoyment Is Distress. When, After Toil, His Native Soil The Panting Mariner Regains, What Transport Flows From Bare Repose! We Reap Our Pleasure From Our Pains. Ye Warlike Slain! Beneath The Main, Wrapt In A Wat'Ry Winding Sheet; Who Bought With Blood Your Country'S Good, Your Country'S (24)Full-Blown Glory Greet. What Pow'Rful Charm Can Death Disarm? Your Long, Your Iron Slumbers Break? By Jove, By Fame, By George'S Name, Awake! Awake! Awake! Awake! With Spiral Shell, Full Blasted, Tell, That All Your Wat'Ry Realms Should Ring; Your Pearl Alcoves, Your Coral Groves, Should Echo Theirs, And Britain'S King. As Long As Stars Guide Mariners, As Carolina'S Virtues Please, Or Suns Invite The Ravish'D Sight, The British Flag Shall Sweep The Seas. Peculiar Both! Our Soil'S Strong Growth, And Our Bold Natives' Hardy Mind; Sure Heaven Bespoke Our Hearts And Oak, To Give A Master To Mankind. That Noblest Birth Of Teeming Earth, Of Forests Fair, That Daughter Proud, To Foreign Coasts Our Grandeur Boasts, And Britain'S Pleasure Speaks Aloud: Now Big With War, Sends Fate From Far, If Rebel Realms Their Fate Demand, Now, Sumptuous Spoils Of Foreign Soils Pours In The Bosom Of Our Land. Hence Britain Lays In Scales, And Weighs The Fate Of Kingdoms, And Of Kings; And As She Frowns, Or Smiles, On Crowns A Night, Or Day Of Glory, Springs. Thus Ocean Swells The Streams And Rills, And To Their Borders Lifts Them High; Or Else Withdraws The Mighty Cause, And Leaves Their Famish'D Channels Dry. How Mixt, How Frail, How Sure To Fail, Is Every Pleasure Of Mankind! A Damp Destroys My Blooming Joys, While Britain'S Glory Fires My Mind. For Who Can Gaze On Restless Seas, Unstruck With Life'S More Restless State? Where All Are Tost, And Most Are Lost, By Tides Of Passion, Blasts Of Fate? The World'S The Main, How Vext! How Vain! Ambition Swells, And Anger Foams; May Good Men Find, Beneath The Wind, A Noiseless Shore, Unruffled Homes! The Public Scene Of Harden'D Men Teach Me, O Teach Me To Despise! The World Few Know But To Their Woe, Our Crimes With Our Experience Rise; All Tender Sense Is Banish'D Thence, All Maiden Nature'S First Alarms What Shock'D Before Disgust No More, And What Disgusted Has Its Charms. In Landscapes Green True Bliss Is Seen, With Innocence, In Shades, She Sports; In Wealthy Towns Proud Labour Frowns, And Painted Sorrow Smiles In Courts. These Scenes Untried Seduc'D My Pride, To Fortune'S Arrows Bar'D My Breast; Till Wisdom Came, A Hoary Dame! And Told Me Pleasure Was In Rest. "O May I Steal Along The Vale Of Humble Life, Secure From Foes! My Friend Sincere! My Judgment Clear! And Gentle Business My Repose! "My Mind Be Strong To Combat Wrong! Grateful, O King! For Favours Shown! Soft To Complain For Others' Pain! And Bold To Triumph O'Er My Own! "(When Fortune'S Kind) Acute To Find, And Warm To Relish Every Boon! And Wise To Still Fantastic Ill, Whose Frightful Spectres Stalk At Noon! "No Fruitless Toils! No Brainless Broils! Each Moment Levell'D At The Mark! Our Day So Short Invites To Sport; Be Sad And Solemn When 'Tis Dark. "Yet, Prudence, Still Rein Thou My Will! What'S Most Important, Make Most Dear! For 'Tis In This Resides True Bliss; True Bliss, A Deity Severe! "When Temper Leans To Gayer Scenes, And Serious Life Void Moments Spares, The Sylvan Chase My Sinews Brace! Or Song Unbend My Mind From Cares! "Nor Shun, My Soul! The Genial Bowl, Where Mirth, Good Nature, Spirit, Flow! Ingredients These, Above, To Please The Laughing Gods, The Wise, Below. "Though Rich The Vine, More Wit Than Wine, More Sense Than Wit, Good-Will Than Art, May I Provide! Fair Truth, My Pride! My Joy, The Converse Of The Heart! "The Gloomy Brow, The Broken Vow, To Distant Climes, Ye Gods! Remove! The Nobly Soul'D Their Commerce Hold With Words Of Truth And Looks Of Love! "O Glorious Aim! O Wealth Supreme! Divine Benevolence Of Soul! That Greatly Glows, And Freely Flows, And In One Blessing Grasps The Whole; "Prophetic Schemes, And Golden Dreams, May I, Unsanguine, Cast Away! Have, What I Have! And Live, Not Leave, Enamour'D Of The Present Day! "My Hours My Own! My Faults Unknown! My Chief Revenue In Content! Then, Leave One Beam Of Honest Fame! And Scorn The Labour'D Monument! "Unhurt My Urn! Till That Great Turn When Mighty Nature'S Self Shall Die! Time Cease To Glide, With Human Pride, Sunk In The Ocean Of Eternity."