Lives there a wretch, whose base, degenerate soul
Can crouch beneath a tyrant's stern controul?
Cringe to his nod, ignobly kiss the hand
In galling chains that binds his native land?
Purchas'd by gold, or aw'd by slavish sear,
Abandon all his ancestors held dear?
Tamely behold that fruit of glorious toil,
England's Great Charter made a russian's spoil;
Hear, unconcern'd, his injured country groan,
Nor stretch an arm to hurl him from the throne?
Let such to freedom forfeit all their claims,
And CHARLES's minious be the slaves of JAMES,