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LEWESDON HILL.
15
Thee rather, patriot Conqueror, to theeBelongs such rest; who in the western world,Thine own deliver'd country, for thyselfHast planted an immortal grove, and there,Upon the glorious mount of LibertyReposing, sit'st beneath the palmy shade.
And Thou, not less renown'd in like attemptOf high atchievement, though thy virtue fail'dTo save thy little country, Patriot Prince,Hero, Philosopher (what more could theyWho wisely chose Thee, Paoli, to blessThy native Isle, long struggling to be free?But Heaven allow'd not) yet may'st thou reposeAfter thy glorious toil, secure of fameWell-earn'd by virtue: while ambitious France,Who stretch'd her lawless hand to seize thine isle,Enjoys not rest or glory; with her preyGorged but not satisfied, and craving stillAgainst th' intent of Nature. See Her nowUpon the adverse shore, her Norman coast,

Plying

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