ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
William Julius Mickle
Libertas, "Parody on some Stanzas of Pollio, an Elegy. Applied to the Brentford Election" St. James's Chronicle (11 April 1769).
William Julius Mickle:
1763: George Lyttelton
1764: John Cunningham
1766: R. S-l
1767: Dr. John Armstrong
1767: Rev. John Langhorne
1770: David Garrick
1771: Rev. Thomas Warton
1771: David Garrick
1771: James Boswell
1773: Richard Fenton
1782: William Hayley
1788 ca.: Anonymous
1791: R. C.
1794: Robert Alves
1794: Thomas James Mathias
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1795: William Taylor of Norwich
1807: Robert Southey
1808: Robert Southey
1810 ca.: Sir Walter Scott
1812: Isaac D'Israeli
1819: Richard Hatt
1822: Thomas Gillett
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1825: Allan Cunningham
1843: John Holland
1845: Robert Phillimore
1848: John Forster
1860: George Gilfillan
1882: Epes Sargent
1769: William Julius Mickle
Near Thames' smooth Stream, where late fair Freedom's Sons
From Slavery's Minions stood a direful Shock,
Old English Liberty beheld th' Attempt
With fearful Heart, and thus the Goddess spoke:
Oft thro' these Plains, exulting from the Fight,
My valiant Sons have march'd along the Lea,
Eying their rescued Fields with proud Delight,
Now lost to them! and ah, how chang'd to me!
For see what dreary Gulf, how dark and void,
These Slaves prepare that here may be my last!
Dreadful C—t Int—st! on thy Depth untry'd
Hope faulters, and my Soul recoils aghast.
Far round the Hustings wide I cast my Eyes;
And shall base Bribery fan her sordid Fire?
Shall Slavery strengthen her inglorious Ties?
And shall my bright, my heav'n-born Flame expire?
Far be the Tho't — the Pleasures most sublime,
Friendship and every towering Wish is mine;
But every Virtue, often deem'd a Crime,
Is chill'd, and languishes at Slavery's Shrine.
So plant my Tree in Scotland's barren Land,
The languid Stranger feebly buds, and dies:
Yet shall its Boughs in England's Clime expand
With Godlike Strength beneath their native Skies.
And, lo, my Rights restor'd, before me rise,
Each County soon shall smile as Brentford's Plains:
Hark, Glynn's our Member, echoes thro' the Skies,
And all the Streets reply, "Fair Freedom reigns!"