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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode to The Country Gentlemen Of England</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while<br> Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms,<br> Yet vain of freedom, how dost thou beguile,<br> With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms?<br> Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd,<br> The praise and envy of the nations round,<br> What care hast thou to guard from fortune's sway?<br> Amid the storms of war, how soon may all<br> The lofty pile from its foundations fall,<br> Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales<br> Add industry's wise gifts to nature's store:<br> And every port is crowded with thy sails,<br> And every wave throws treasure on thy shore.<br> What boots it? If luxurious plenty charm<br> Thy selfish heart from glory, if thy arm<br> Shrink at the frowns of danger and of pain,<br> Those gifts, that treasure is no longer thine.<br> Oh rather far be poor. Thy gold will shine<br> Tempting the eye of force, and deck thee to thy bane.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> But what hath force or war to do with thee?<br> Girt by the azure tide and thron'd sublime<br> Amid thy floating bulwarks, thou canst see,<br> With scorn, the fury of each hostile clime<br> Dash'd ere it reach thee. Sacred from the foe<br> Art thy fair fields: athwart thy guardian prow<br> No bold invader's foot shall tempt the strand--<br> Yet say my country, will the waves and wind<br> Obey thee? Hast thou all thy hopes resign'd<br> To the sky's fickle faith? the pilot's wavering hand?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=454943" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Nor yet be aw'd, nor yet your task disown,<br> Though war's proud votaries look on severe;<br> Though secrets, taught erewhile to them alone,<br> They deem profan'd by your intruding ear.<br> Let them in vain, your martial hope to quell,<br> Of new refinements, fiercer weapons tell,<br> And mock the old simplicity, in vain:<br> To the time's warfare, simple or refin'd,<br> The time itself adapts the warrior's mind;<br> And equal prowess still shall equal palms obtain.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Mark+Akenside">Mark Akenside</a></strong></div>

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