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What makes a province rich ?—'tis industry
And 'tis to this fair child of sober sense
That, Berg, thy duchy owes prosperity,
And fruitful fields, and honest opulence :
Thy wealth in mines and minerals, too, 's immense !
To nourish arts, or forge for man's defence :
Our unbought praise of her judicious sway,
Depicted in her thriving, cheerful race;
Where damsels may be found of fairer face ?
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,
Thy countless looms, thy taffetas, thy lace.-
Why oft should prouder powers and wealthier shores
Make harsh monopoly of Nature's gifts ?
Were meant for all.--Away with artful shifts;
Nay, what are sometimes worse, manquvres, drifts.-
Which rules thy destinies, nor ever lifts
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 indistincte. ment 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,
eyes of mercy !-lowly at her feet
Let such be India's vantage, while we buy
Those blustering myriads to her orient sky :
So be it told, as after ages roll,
And Coromandel rivals our rich fields ;
When there can not be found from pole to pole
A land which lovelier smiles, or better yields:
So be it told, “ 'Twas England, who best wields
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
Of him whose sole pretence is but to prate; Yet has he seen too much-has liv'd too long
To misconceive what renovates a state;
What renovates a State,
And so would here, mayhap 'tis out of date,
Content with comforts, they'd not emulate
The cheapest opiate.
In court or cottage, who the soundest sleeps ?
The honest husbandman who toils the day, Or that o'erfed grandee, who lazy keeps,
His revels till the sun's returning ray ?
What leads so oft to premature decay ? To ruin'd fortune ?-ask that pallid cheek ;
Or ask the bankrupt brother-he will say, 'Tis dissipation !—what can stronger speak, Than drooping loveliness ?-I would not seek,
No: it would be, nor moral nor humane,
To tell the young, the modest, innocent,
I am not on such message sent;
One joyous laugh, for millions ! my intent,
But we must hence the pilot's whistle sounds,
No feeble warning to the straggling few,
Of Dusseldorf, Oft vowing to review,
Her peaceful scenes, and who knows we may too.
And that fair Prussian Maiden,-Do, now do,