text:  "Is this--O death to think!--is this the land Where merit and reward went hand in hand? Where heroes parent-like the poet view'd By whom they saw their glorious deeds renew'd? Where poets true to honour tuned their lays And by their patrons sanctified their praise? Is this the land where on our Spenser's tongue Enamour'd of his voice Description hung? Where Jonson rigid Gravity beguiled While Reason through her critic fences smiled? Where Nature listening stood whilst Shakspeare play'd And wonder'd at the work herself had made? Is this the land where mindful of her charge And office high fair Freedom walk'd at large? Where finding in our laws a sure defence She mock'd at all restraints but those of sense? Where Health and Honour trooping by her side She spreads her sacred empire far and wide; Pointed the way Affliction to beguile And bade the face of Sorrow wear a smile-- Bade those who dare obey the generous call Enjoy her blessings which God meant for all? Is this the land where in some tyrant's reign When a weak wicked ministerial train The tools of power the slaves of interest plann'd Their country's ruin and with bribes unmann'd Those wretches who ordain'd in Freedom's cause Gave up our liberties and sold our laws; When Power was taught by Meanness where to go Nor dared to love the virtue of a foe; When like a lep'rous plague from the foul head To the foul heart her sores Corruption spread Her iron arm when stern Oppression rear'd And Virtue from her broad base shaken fear'd The scourge of Vice; when impotent and vain Poor Freedom bow'd the neck to Slavery's chain? Is this the land where in those worst of times The hardy poet raised his honest rhymes To dread rebuke and bade Controlment speak In guilty blushes on the villain's cheek; Bade Power turn pale kept mighty rogues in awe And made hem fear the Muse who fear'd not law? "How do I laugh when men of narrow souls Whom folly guides and prejudice controls; Who one dull drowsy track of business trod Worship their Mammon and neglect their God; Who breathing by one musty set of rules Dote from their birth and are by system fools; Who form'd to dulness from their very youth Lies of the day prefer to Gospel-truth; Pick up their little knowledge from Reviews And lay out all their stock of faith in news; How do I laugh when creatures form'd like these Whom Reason scorns and I should blush to please Rail at all liberal arts deem verse a crime And hold not truth as truth if told in rhyme?" These are commendable verses but they are not the verses of a true poet