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What makes a province rich ?—'tis industry—
National And 'tis to this fair child of sober sense
That, Berg, thy duchy owes prosperity,
And fruitful fields, and honest opulence :
To nourish arts, or forge for man's defence :
Our unbought praise of her judicious sway,
1 By the Congress of Vienna in 1815, it was settled, that Dusseldorf, one of the cercles of the province of Cleves and Berg, should, with the other provinces of the Duchy of the Lower Rhine, belong to Prussia, now governed by Frederick William III.
I must not, Elberfeld',-it were disgrace, To let thy far-fam'd valley pass unsung;
Thy countless looms, thy taffetas, thy lace.—
Thy praises have in abler peals been rung:
I love just praise
-since ne'er by envy stung.
Why oft should prouder powers and wealthier shores
Her treasures, bounties, and still-teeming stores,
Were meant for all.-Away with artful shifts;
Oh! my lov'd India !-may that mighty state
Her arm to plunder or lay desolate;
But which, mistaking, may relieve too late.
1 I find the following account of the town of Elberfeld in Mioville's Geographie Europiénne, page 362:-" Elberfeld est dans une contrée sauvage, et cependant de jolies maisons, a demi cachées sous des touffes d'arbres, y deviennent l'azyle de l'economie, de l'ordre, et du travail. Son industrie se prete à toutes les mobilités de la mode. Elle s'exerce indistinctement sur la soye, la laine, le fil, et le coton. Elle imite jusqu'aux bizarres dessins des Indes."
A prayer for May that great empire, from her judgment-seat,
View an ingenious, gentle progeny,
With eyes of mercy!-lowly at her feet
They lay their labours, with which none can vie;
So be it told, as after ages roll,
And Coromandel rivals our rich fields;
So be it told," "Twas England, who best wields
Old Neptune's trident, made this people know,
And feel those blessings Justice showers and shields."
Who was it said-Go teach all nations ?-Lo!
It was a SAVIOUR spoke!
Then be it so.—
To preach were vain, nor would well suit the song
What renovates a State,
In court or cottage, who the soundest sleeps?
His revels till the sun's returning ray?
Or ask the bankrupt brother-he will say, 'Tis dissipation !—what can stronger speak, Than drooping loveliness ?—I would not seek,
The cheapest opiate.
No: it would be, nor moral nor humane,
To tell the young, the modest, innocent,
I would not rob thee, Alice, of one smile,
One joyous laugh, for millions! my intent,
But we must hence the pilot's whistle sounds,
Her peaceful scenes, and who knows we may too.
By all that's fortunate! See, in she goes.