43. England
|
{89}
TYRE of the West, and glorying in the name |
| More than in Faith's pure fame! |
| O trust not crafty fort nor rock renown'd |
| Earn'd upon hostile ground; |
| Wielding Trade's master-keys, at thy proud will |
| To lock or loose its waters, England! trust not still. |
Dread thine own power! Since haughty Babel's prime, |
| High towers have been man's crime. |
| Since her hoar age, when the huge moat lay bare, |
| Strongholds have been man's snare. |
| Thy nest is in the crags; ah! refuge frail! |
| Mad counsel in its hour, or traitors, will prevail. |
He who scann'd Sodom for His righteous men |
| Still spares thee for thy ten; {90} |
| But, should vain tongues the Bride of Heaven defy, |
| He will not pass thee by; |
| For, as earth's kings welcome their spotless guest, |
| So gives He them by turn, to suffer or be blest. |
At Sea.
December 18, 1832. |